


His Protector

by SparklingPopsicles



Category: Free!
Genre: AU, Fluff, Knight Makoto, M/M, Mild Angst, Prince Haruka, Romance, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 96,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklingPopsicles/pseuds/SparklingPopsicles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haruka is a Nanase: A prince. A raven. A person of royalty. Makoto is a Tachibana: A knight. A swordsman. A humble servant. Yet together, they become something even the sky cannot hold and the strongest of swords cannot penetrate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Knight to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for Tama @yukianesa on Twitter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You must love these celebrations, being a prince..."

“Prince? Prince? _Prince Haruka_!”

Haru groans, feeling an excruciating wave of consciousness and exhaustion. He grasps desperately for a pillow, and when he finds one, he doesn’t speak or open his eyes as he throws the pillow, hearing it softly hit something. “ _Uhf_ \- accurate aim. But I am still present.”

With a grumble of defeat, Prince Haruka lifts his eyelids and accepts being tortuously dragged from his slumber. Bit by bit, he wills himself from his big, plush bed and looks to his gentleman who is already so unbearably alert, neat and pressed. “Rei, why are you in my chambers? What could you possibly want?”

Ryugazaki Rei clears his throat, pushing his spectacles higher on his nose. “Prince, you have a very busy day. You know this. The king and queen asked me to fetch you.”

“Whatever for?”

“They want you pristine for the knighting ceremony.”

“No,” Haru decides, falling back onto his bed. “I don’t want to do that today. Or ever.”

“I’ve retained this information already, Prince Haruka,” Rei says calmly, as if he’s had years of practice trying to persuade the prince to entertain certain “non-ideal” scenarios. “You have told me at least eight times every day for the past week, but you know this is happening and you have no choice but to get up and be there.”

Haru can easily hear the severity in Rei’s voice, but there’s a hint of desperation in his tone as well. Haru turns his head to his gentleman. Rei is standing his ground, giving him a stern look. He’s not showing it, but Rei is anxious. Haru can tell. Rei must be worried that he won’t dress for the day or will be tardy to breakfast because the blame will not settle on the prince, but on his keeper. Something squeezes in Haru’s chest; it would be his fault but Rei’s consequence. ‘ _No, that cannot happen’,_ he determines. Haru once again rises. He may loathe waking up early and attending insufferable ceremonies, but he will do it if it helps secure Rei’s position as Gentleman of the Bedchamber for even one more day. “Very well,” Haru says, bleakly. “But I shall have my yoga first.”

Rei’s demeanor openly unwinds. “I believe that is acceptable, My Prince,” he says, bowing. “I’ll run your bath.”

At the idea of a bath, Haru awakens a little more. “And I believe _that_ is also acceptable. I will call for you when I’m finished.” When Rei paces past the bedchamber to start filling the bath, Haru climbs out of bed. He pulls off his nightgown and walks over to his double doors, opening them. He closes his eyes as the cool, salty breeze wraps itself soothingly around him. He can smell the ocean from here, and it greets him like a lover. “Good morning to you, too,” Haru whispers. Now, he can start the morning.

Haruka silently stretches on the floor in just his underwear, repeatedly contorting his body and bending his muscles as far as he can will them. Feeling the strain centers him, and having almost total control of his body helps increase his stamina for the day. He then stands to perform his balance regime, clutching a leg and gradually raising it, breathing out steadily as his knee gets closer and closer to his torso. There’s a twinge of discomfort, but Haru has practiced yoga since he was a boy. His body is more than capable of handling any strain it’s put upon. As he releases his leg, staring out his open doors, he does everything he can to clear his mind. To stop himself from thinking about attending yet another boring and tedious knighting ceremony, and to stop realizing that he is going to have to spend most of the day with the king and queen, pretending to care and being forced to give the image that the royalty of the city is truthfully a family.

Rei utters something as he leaves the chambers all together, but Haru doesn’t hear him, only the swishing water of the bath that begins calling out to him. He takes no time stripping off the last piece of clothing and submerging himself completely into his tub. Haru closes his eyes, letting the water take him. Whatever he didn’t get out of yoga, the water is mending now. It feels so good on his body. Feels alive. Safe. At home where he wants to stay. But Haru’s chest compresses after awhile so he opens his eyes and shoots out of the water. He gasps, trying to catch his breath as he shakes his hair loose of liquid. Even though it’s all he wants to do, Prince Haruka knows that he cannot honestly live in the water forever.

By the time Rei returns to dress him, Haru is already cross. “I can dress myself in my own official robes, Rei,” Haru says irritably as Rei adjusts his tunic.

“This I know, Prince Haruka.”

“And _why_ are you being so formal? What is wrong with Haru?”

“Nothing at all, Prince, but it is a ceremonial day. I want to do everything by law.” Rei pulls on Haru’s vest for him and fires him another stern expression. “With this in mind, stop calling me by my name, please.”

“Annoying,” Haru mumbles.

Rei gets on his knees, looking up at Haru as he attaches the belt and fastens it around him. “It could be worse. You could have the chambermaids bathe you and an additional three keepers in here dressing you. It took two days to convince the chancellor to let me do this alone.”

Haru’s eyes widen. Ryugazaki Rei is not a man who defies procedure. He has lived by the code of precision for as long as Haru has known him. The Ryugazaki family has always worked for the kingdom, meaning Rei was always around to play with the prince. He has been at Haru’s side since they were children; when they finally came of age, it seemed only natural that Rei would become Haru’s gentleman. From day one Rei has taken the position to heart and honor, so for him to openly express his will to diverge from the rules just to make Haruka more comfortable, forces the prince’s heart to feel a little heavier. Haru turns his head, slightly. “Well, thank you. I appreciate your persistence.”

“Of course, My Prince.” Haru looks back at a smiling Rei. Haru grants him a slither of a grin then continues looking forward, deciding not to give Rei any more trouble.

Haru _does_ , however, convince Rei to let him brush his own hair, and when the black, soft strands are swooped perfectly at his temple, Rei is in front of him, kneeling with a small blue pillow in his hands. The pillow holds Prince Haruka’s silver crown that is embedded with a black opal stone. He doesn’t rise from his seat until after he has had at least a minute to accept what is about to happen - the annoying monotony. “Your royalty, My Prince,” Rei says, ducking his head.

“You may will it, Gentleman Ryugazaki,” Haru answers.

Rei clutches the crown with his thumb, pointer, and middle fingers, letting the pillow drop as he stands. He walks behind Haru. “Prince,” he says, placing the crown on top of Haru’s head. When Rei is back in front of him, Haru gives him the tiniest of nods, and Rei bows again. Somehow he already has another blue pillow in his hands, which carries an item that will feel just as weighty as the crown. It’s a silver ring; one that Haru must wear on ceremonial days. He picks it up, reluctantly sliding it on his right middle finger. He then reaches his hand out to Rei who takes it, kissing the ring. “Rule our kingdom, Prince Haruka.”

“With might and vision,” Haru rejoins.

Rei at last stands at the completion of the ritual. “Brilliant, My Prince.”

“How do I look?”

Rei pushes his spectacles further up his nose again. He cups his chin as he looks over Haru and sighs, blushing. “Quite beautiful, My Prince.” Rei says the words and gives an expression as if there is nothing else truer in his life. Haru can’t help it; he gives his first honest smile of the day.

“With your help,” Haru offers.

Rei boldly shakes his head. “Oh no, not possible. However, I _will_ help you remember your schedule for today. Shall we go over the itinerary?” Of course, if Rei knows anything, it is how to ruin a good mood. Haru stares at him dimly before shrugging, something he can only ever do in front of his gentleman. “Firstly, the king and queen require you at breakfast. There will be a conference on the knights arriving and criteria for the ceremony and festival. The king requests you to be in attendance, given that you are toasting tonight.”

Haru scoffs, waving a hand. “No. I cannot possibly be forced to spend the entire evening with a bunch of drunken, arrogant knights.”

“Prince Haruka, the king-”

“ - my father will hear the extent of my anguish!” Haru interrupts. “Just as I have told you.” Rei takes a step back, and Haru instantly regrets his temper. He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but he can’t help himself. The very idea of toasting knights who slay their chivalry the instant they dismount from their horses makes Haru ill. Furthermore, only being told such information now is ludicrous. Rei again gives Haru a look of nervousness, which he can’t handle right now. “Listen,” Haru says, tolerantly, “you have performed elegantly this morning. This has nothing to do with you. Just…announce to my parents that I will be arriving soon.”

Rei doesn’t move. “Are you quite sure?”

“Yes, I will be there,” Haru answers. Rei looks as though he wants to say something, but he only gives a bow then leaves the chamber.

Haru exhales deeply and looks over himself: His clothing and boots are immaculate, his blue cloak is perfectly trimmed, and Rei fit the crown flawlessly on his head. Everything about Prince Haruka presently is shiny and pristine and royal. However, all Haru feels right now is remorse. He walks over to the side of his bed, gazing wretchedly at his easel and blank canvass. He should have found time last night to paint. He should have let himself enjoy being mostly naked, his hair sticking out in areas, and his skin covered in fine colors. He touches the easel yet focuses on his ring; a raven’s face, his family’s seal, is carved into the metal. Haruka is a Nanase. A person of royalty. A raven that rules with might and vision. A bird that flies across the skies, reaping what it needs. He hates this ring. It mocks him every time he puts it on. Haru does not want to fly. He does not want to rule. He cannot _possibly_ live forever in the sky.

Haru turns from his empty canvass, heading over to his balcony. He goes out and peers over the kingdom. He has the best chamber in the entire castle; the smell of the ocean is right at his doorstep, and the scent gives him chills. _That_ is where he wants to be. More than anything else, Haru wishes he could live in the ocean. That he could swim free. That he was a dolphin instead of a bird - something that embraces water instead of air. Haru closes his eyes for a moment, letting the yearning rapidly fill him up then pass. He tells himself that he will find time to swim soon. If he cannot escape the ceremony or the toast or even the ring, Haru will make sure he fights for a chance to swim.

~~~

Haruka does not understand why his father always wants him present at a certain time. He’s either not there himself or doesn’t even notice when Haru arrives. Today, it is the latter. The king sits at the head of the table, quietly eating as his constable pops in and out to converse, but the king is not using any of his words for his son. Haru cuts finely into his mackerel and responds as courteously as he can to his mother who speaks to him from across the table. The saba is in good supply today, but it is not enough to satisfy him. He continues to criticize himself in his head for not sneaking away last night to paint. It’s the only vice he has, other than swimming, that makes him feel…like _anything_ but what he is.

“Haruka?”

“Yes?” Haru promptly responds, looking up from his dish.

“Did you not hear your mother?” his father sternly inquires, “she asked you a question.”

Haru feels warmth on his cheeks. He nods down to his mother. “I’m sorry.”

“Rise, my son,” his mother says. Haru lifts his head; she’s smiling. It’s the same sort of expression Rei gives him. A smile that has bears no trace of disappointment. “I only asked if you were feeling well. You seem ailed.”

“I-”

“- he is quite well,” his father answers for him, looking from his mother then back at him. “Aren’t you, Prince Haruka?”

It sounds more like a challenge than a question, but Haru is a Nanase, too. He does _not_ easily back down. “If I must be honest,” Haru begins, “then I have to say that I have no intention on going to the festival or giving the toast.”

“Haruka,” his mother breathes.

“I’m sorry, but do you believe you have a choice?” his father asks. “You will attend the ceremony, the festival, and give the toast. You are a prince, Haruka, and you are of age now. You have more responsibilities, so you may no longer just sit around and paint.”

“I never get to paint!” Haru protests, slamming his hand on the table. “I never get to _just_ anything. Why did you have Re - _my gentleman_ \- only tell me this morning that I have to give the toast?”

“Because I did not want you moping around for a week or finding a way to get out of your duties,” his father explains. “Haruka, this kingdom will be yours someday. You have to grow up. You are no longer a child.”

Haru bites his tongue hard. He needs to sit down, shut up, and listen to his king. He can’t, though. He _won’t_. “How would you know, father?” Haru challenges right back. “You were never around when I was a child.”

“Nanase Haruka!” his mother says, gasping.

“Get out!” his father exclaims, slamming down his tablecloth. “If you want to throw a tantrum like some toddling peasant, then so be it, but you _will_ be in attendance at the festival and you _will_ give a toast worthy of this family because you _are_ a part of it.”

Haru opens his mouth to fire back, but his mother finally raises her hand. “Haruka, my love,” she says. Her cheeks are slightly pink and her brow is furrowed, but she seems more concerned than cross. “What your father is trying to say is that you are our son. You are our only child. Our beautiful boy who is now a man. Everything we have is our legacy to you. This is your destiny, Prince Haruka. You have to embrace this fact.” Her words are unbearably tender yet unyielding. Haru swallows down something hard and sharp. He wants to protest that it is not his fault his parents only had one child – one son – who cares not for a kingdom or riches or elite power. The responsibility, pressure, legacy, and destiny - he doesn’t want _any_ of it. Neither does he want to continue being dressed by other people, being told that he cannot learn certain skills because they are too dangerous or beneath his status, or being accompanied everywhere he goes outside of the castle by two different escort factions.

Haru wants nothing more than to scream all of his objections, but he won’t. He can’t. His parents’ black and blue robes match his own. All three have crowns with a black opal in the center, and the symbol of a raven is carved into each of their rings. These delicate, fundamental details are why Haruka will speak no longer of his grievances. The details are why he will never be anything other than what he is, and why he can never create a life for himself that hasn’t already been designed since birth. He is a Nanase. This is his family. This is his home. _Here_ is his destiny – no matter what Haruka paints for himself or otherwise fantasizes about in the water.

“You are absolutely right,” Haru says quietly to his mother. “I’m sorry, My Queen.” He then looks to his father. “My King, I will be ready.” He stands from the table, bows, and leaves his parents. As he makes his way out of the dining hall, guards, servants, maids, and court officials stop to bow, offer services, and compliment him. He tries his very best to bask in the praise, as all his life he has been told that there is nothing better than being born entitled, but all Haru feels is boredom and irritation. That doesn’t matter right now, though. Nothing matters but the job he has to do today, because he is a prince after all. A prince that probably has less freedom than anyone else in the kingdom.

Haru goes through the rest of his morning prepping and preparing, receiving yet another brief from Rei. He takes it all in with his usual short and dull responses, so that by the time he and his parents take their seats out in the courtyard for the ceremony, Haru is stifling yawns. It’s warmer now outside; the sun is beaming. As a result, the dismal draft carries heat as it coils around Haru and his many layers of clothing. The atmosphere is painfully hot and dry; there is _nothing_ Haru wants to do more as the ceremony begins than to sprint across the kingdom, dive in the ocean, and stay there.

~~~

Prince Haruka watches listlessly as men are introduced and offered. He can only sigh and move around in his seat until it is finally his moment to arise in front of the knights, the kingdom, and the people. He barely listens as his father gives a speech about these fine, select men becoming knights. There are six today, which means at least three will try to entice him in some way during the ceremony. Sly winks, extended kisses, and thick smirks are typical techniques knights use on him, but they are not the only ones who bore Haru with false charms. He isn’t blind to the cause. He comes from a handsome family, and he swims and performs enough yoga to realize he has an impeccable form. His appearance carries a certain weight, especially to men, and he is not above using his attraction to get things he needs or to be able to go somewhere alone. But flirtation in this manor, so haughty and out of Haru’s control, makes him bitterly uncomfortable.

He sits back in place, discreetly rubbing his middle finger on his breeches as the fifth man joins his brothers in knighthood. He had kissed just a little too hard for Haru, leaving moisture from his lips on Haru’s finger. He busies himself with cleaning his ring and barely hears the last announcement. He and his mother join the king in front of the crowd and before the final man to be knighted. Like the others, he too is dressed in chainmail but his smock and cape is a deep green. Haru tilts his head vaguely, noticing at once that there is something different about this man. Even though he is easily the tallest and broadest to be knighted today, he carries himself as if he is unaware of how greatly he towers over everyone else – or perhaps he simply does not _want_ to realize such a thing. With his helmet now off, as well, Haru can also perceive how red the man’s ears are and that there is a faint blush on his cheeks. This man is either nervous or embarrassed – possibly both - but that does not seem logical to Prince Haruka. _Every_ knight is conceited and sturdy, especially on the day of ceremony. That is why they are here…

Clapping begins, and the newly appointed knight commences walking down the line of royalty to profess his allegiance. Haru suddenly feels guilty for not listening when the knight’s name was called, but he can’t understand why that matters to him. Then, abruptly, Haru hears the man pledge to his mother. The voice seems younger, gentler than it should, and far too casual, but the man’s tone also carries a surprising amount of instability. It’s horribly immediate when the knight is somehow kneeling before Haru, and his hair is so much lighter and messier than Haru expected from someone so big. “It is my honor and privilege to forever serve your kingdom, Prince Haruka.”

Maybe it’s the heat, or the fatigue, or slight hunger from not finishing his mackerel, but something keeps Haru from responding right away. He has been to countless knighting ceremonies and has gone through this procedure many times, so why does he suddenly feel panicky? Why is he frozen on such a hot day? Why can he do nothing but stare down at this man who is offering himself indefinitely and said his name like superior silk? Haruka feels his mother shifting next to him, and it helps yank him back to reality. ‘ _This is stupid. You are annoying’,_ he tells himself, rolling back his shoulders. ‘ _Just get on with it_ ’.

“May my kingdom forever bestow you victory and prosperity,” Prince Haruka finally answers as he reaches his hand out. The knight takes it, barely touching Haru as he grips his fingertips just so. His hand is much larger and rougher than Haru’s, but his handle is gentle, like his voice. The knight places a chaste kiss on the tip of Haru’s ring, his lips coming nowhere near him. To finish, the knight looks up at Haru, and the blush on his cheeks spreads. Haru too feels the back of his neck heating up as his heartbeat loses its rhythm. The knight’s eyes are fantastically green, and the reasoning behind the voice and hair becomes plain. This fellow may be a knight, but he is no more a man than Haru. His hairstyle and voice seem young because he _is_ young. Young and blushing in a way that Haru can only describe as _pretty_ this close up. But that is stupid. Knights are not pretty. At least, they’re not supposed to be.

The knight raises his lips from Haru’s ring, letting go of his hand. Haru reflexively closes his palm, still feeling a slight pressure that tingles his fingers. He doesn’t even know this knight’s name, but Haru cannot help but feel as though he has nothing to fear from him, and he cannot understand how he can tell that the knight must feel something, too. His green eyes seem to get wider, and his blush only deepens as time goes on. Haru feels a strong urge to say something. Anything to him, but before he can even plague himself as to what should happen next, the knight stands once more and walks past him, joining the rest of the brotherhood. When the clapping starts again, Haru sits back in his seat. His entire body feels warm and his fingers will not stop twitching and nothing makes sense.

For the rest of the ceremony Haru does his best to pay attention, but it is too difficult to focus. Not because he’s uninterested or upset, for once, but because he has no idea why he reacted so outrageously to the knight in green robes. He’s just a man, like every other man Prince Haruka eventually gets tired of, so what possible difference could large hands, a shaky voice, and a blush make? He keeps asking himself this question as the day goes on, so by nightfall his bewilderment has carried over to the festival. It’s held in the massive commencement tent just outside the castle and is full of buffet tables, mead assemblies, seating areas, and a grand space in the middle for dancing. All the attendants are permitted to dress down, and the alcohol, singing, and buffet quickly turns everyone into laughing, dancing, drinking jesters. Well, everyone except for Haru, who continues to sit at the royal table and watch as people become less principled through booze and flirtation.

Haru doesn’t like parties or huge gatherings, but he does enjoy dancing and considers himself very good. More often than not at festivals, he dances with noble women, causally flirts with men, and tries to feel as free as possible with Rei never too far behind him and an escort ready to snatch him away if word is brought down. However, tonight he can’t even attempt to be normal for both his parents are here – parents who often disapprove of his behavior - and of course want him to do or focus on nothing until after he gives his toast.

Haru runs a hand through his hair. He’s relieved to be in fewer layers and also to be without his crown or ring, but he still feels stifled. He glances over at his parents who are busy conversing with nobility. He doesn’t waste another second before hurriedly slipping out from his seat and joining the crowded party. Any person who isn’t drunk or spinning around on the floor greets him and gives him space to move, much more for the king’s benefit than his, Haru is sure of it. He doesn’t mind though, for it allows him to search around the tent and in corners where it is harder to see at night. He keeps looking around, peeking behind people, until he ultimately stops, realizing what is he doing. _Who_ he is looking for, exactly. ‘ _Why? Why Haruka?’_ he asks himself. Why does he need to look for anyone - especially a knight? It shouldn’t matter how nervous the man in green had appeared to Haru earlier; this is the knight’s party, and he is a part of the kingdom now. Haru is sure that the man must be off somewhere hiking up the dress of some maid.

“Prince Haruka?” Rei asks from behind him.

Haru jumps, turning around. “Rei – I mean, _Gentleman_!”

“I’m so sorry to startle you,” Rei says, bowing. “I’ve just been looking for you. Are you well?” he adds, taking off his spectacles to wipe them. It’s plain to see how exhausted he must be. Rei was undoubtedly awake hours before Haru, and, unlike the prince, was not given the luxury to sit for most of the day. Regardless, Rei will never admit fatigue or a desire to slow down. He is one of the most motivated and unrelenting people Haru knows.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Haru says. “I need a pause. Perhaps a little fresh air?”

Rei seems apprehensive. He looks back at the party then to Haru. “Granted, but come back, please? The toast will be soon.”

“I know. Thank you.” Rei begins to walk away but Haru touches his arm. “Wait,” he says, honestly unsure of what he is about to ask. “The…the last knight in line today. What is his name?”

Rei looks surprised by the inquiry, but he no less blinks, shifting his eyes to the side as he obviously tries to remember. “Oh, yes, green robes. That would be Tachibana Makoto.”

“Makoto?”

Rei gives a light guffaw. “Yes, he is one of us, Prince. Maybe we should start a guild.”

Haru discreetly rolls his eyes at the idea of having an entire society full of men with feminine first names. “He seems young.”

“He is young. No more older than you, perchance. Why do you ask?” Rei leans just a speck into Haru’s personal space. “I _did_ notice you were indistinctly atypical when he presented himself.”

Haru looks away. If anyone were to notice his awkwardness, it would be Ryugazaki Rei. “I was simply inquiring, and I was not _atypical_. Just overheated.” Haru instantly realizes “overheated” is the wrong word choice, but Rei lets it go. Instead, he nods, briefly touching Haru’s elbow.

“Promptly back, My Prince,” Rei says while bowing. Haru assures him a few more times before excusing himself from the tent.

Haru sighs fondly as cool air caresses his face. It feels so good to be outside in the dark - alone. He stretches his arms as he strolls down the plush grass and to the slight hill that overlooks the lower division of the kingdom. It’s his favorite place to escape to on festivals nights, and he’s incredibly close to smiling about his return until he sees someone - big and tall and covered in chainmail - sitting in his exact spot. While it is dark now, the candles and torches from the tent, along with the moon and stars, help him to see without much problem. Although, even if visibility was an issue, somehow Haru is certain he would be able to make out this body anywhere – under any condition. It is the knight. Tachibana Makoto. He’s here. Alone. In Haruka’s spot. Resting back on his palms and staring up at the heavens.

Haru opens his mouth to say something. He’s not too far away so he’ll be heard, but for the life of him he can’t produce anything of worth to say. It’s so stupid. He’s been thinking about Tachibana all evening and has tried looking for him, yet Haru has nothing to articulate and doesn’t even know why any of this is happening. The longer he watches the knight, the sillier he feels for wanting to find him. Yes, he can just walk up to him now, but Haru is not quite sure he wants to anymore. He just feels nervous, which is blasphemy because princes do _not_ get nervous. A Nanase does _not_ forget his words, but both are happening now, just from looking at Tachibana. Haru balls his fists. He mentally decides to give himself another criticism before bed, but right now he needs to get whatever this is out of his system. He simply needs to meet the knight, properly this time, and get a better look at him. Haru is no more than curious of someone whose appearance and actions so blatantly do not match - that is all. So, he can do this. Haru is positive he will not go down without a fight. He can talk to anyone, whether he wants to or not. His confidence has always been one of the only traits his father believes has value, and it’s something Haru appreciates about himself.

He shakes off his tension and starts ambling over to the knight. ‘ _This is my kingdom. I can go where I damn well please’_ ,he repeats to himself. Haru is quick and light enough that Tachibana doesn’t hear him come up from behind. This sort of greeting is absolutely improper for the occasion, but Haru has never been one to stick to every rule like Rei. He licks his lips, deciding to use his playful wit – Haru’s usual approach. “Are our facilities not to your standard?”

Tachibana jerks like he’s heard a poltergeist, making a high-pitched blare someone his size should not have the ability to create. He whips around, recognizing at once who is speaking to him. “My Prince!” Tachibana exclaims, scrambling to his feet and directly kneeling. He starts rambling apologizes and excuses into a long soliloquy, causing Haru to regret his tactic. He expected the knight to retort with something sharp or teasing or even rude – not start chastising himself in apparent fear. This is not what Haru intended, and it is definitely not something he anticipated from a knight.

Haru peers down at Tachibana who is shamelessly groveling before him. He feels embarrassed and mildly hot for some reason again. He has to make this man stop. “This is your knighting festival. The only person you bow to is the king. You can. You can rise.”

Tachibana instantaneously shuts up and stands. He still looks worried, and he bows shortly after. It’s remarkable, even bowing this man is a giant. “I am so sorry, Prince. If I-”

“ – silence,” Haru says, holding up his hand. Tachibana once again closes his mouth; he presses his lips tightly together and rises. It is unpleasant using his title against this man, but Haru is impressed by how swiftly Tachibana follows orders. Somehow, this fact makes Haru feel even more stifled; he will really, really need to go for a swim tonight. Tachibana merely stares as if he’s awaiting order, and Haru finds it difficult to find any with the knight watching him like this. He wants to turn away and cover the blush that must be present on his face, but he can’t. He has no power to look away. “I mean,” Haru attempts, after what has to be decades, “what I want to say is that you have no need to apologize. You are more than welcome to leave the tent or do whatever you please. You have complete freedom tonight.”

Tachibana’s shoulders slump; his face softens. He smiles big, giving a heap of a sigh. “This is joyous news.”

“I did not mean to frighten you, Knight,” Haru quickly adds. “I’m. I’m sorry.” Tachibana’s eyes widen at Haru’s apology. Haru himself is a bit taken aback. Despite the fact that he never apologizes to anyone - at least meaningfully - except to Rei, Haru has wanted to act contrite to this knight twice already today.

Tachibana shakes his head, looking pained. “No, please do not offer me your remorse. I cannot accept it, Prince. This is my fault.” He looks down at his hands, slowly closing his fingers into fists. “I just wanted a little fresh air. I’ve been too nervous all day to really eat or drink, and I don’t want to risk anything. This is an extraordinary day.” Haru nods, not knowing how to respond. No one ever opens up to him about anything, and it is purely just another boring day for the prince, but obviously that is not the case for Tachibana. Being knighted is momentous for a man, Haru supposes. He is also at a loss for words, _again_ , because Tachibana is opening up so frankly to him. Speaking as though they are friends who have known each other for years and have not been segregated by class and culture their entire lives. Haru concludes that Tachibana cannot possibly act this way on a daily bases. At least, not in front of other people. He is a knight. A swordsman. A killer when necessary. So why is Tachibana…nothing like how he should be?

This thought alone seems to fill Haru up with some kind of energy, and it gives him more courage to be himself and speak. “It really is acceptable, Knight,” Haru tries to assure. “I didn’t come out here to fetch or lecture you. I wanted peace as well.”

Tachibana continues staring at Haru as if he is trying to decipher something written on his face. When the knight is satisfied by what he finds he perks up, taking off his cloak and laying it in the glass. He gives a slight bow. “You are more than welcome to sit here and find your peace, My Prince.”

This time Haruka does look away. His face is so hot that the cooks could prepare roast on it, and the heat has spread beyond his neck, smoldering his lower back and stomach. Haru tells himself this is happening because the offer made by Tachibana is completely against etiquette, or maybe he is having a physical reaction to being away from the water for so long, but both statements are falsehoods. The prince simply _blushes_ around this man. Haru almost doesn’t want to accept the invitation because he cannot afford to look any more dense in front of the knight, but he also knows right now, deep down, that sitting on the knight’s green cloak is the best suggestion he’s received all day. Haru gives an accepting nod and unfolds onto the cloak as gracefully as he can muster. Tachibana continues standing, like he’s once again waiting for something. Haru blinks up at him. He is not sure if he should be more amused or puzzled by this knight. “You may rest as well, if you like.”

“Yes, right away,” Tachibana hastily replies. He sits beside Haru but not too close. He detaches his sword sheath from his chainmail, laying it next to him. Tachibana then looks up at the sky. He doesn’t rest back on his palms, but he does appear calmer as the night’s sky seems to memorize him. Only then does Haru look away and up, too.

The prince and the knight are quiet as they settle and watch the stars. Since they are strangers, Haru thinks that this should feel uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. There is something peaceful to their silence, and Haru doesn’t feel pressured to care about the moment, although he does. This is first time in years it seems that Haru has been able to sit with someone and just be in the moment - no lectures or sexual advances or duties involved. He glances over at the knight who’s sitting in his exact spot - _his_ secret sanctuary. The breeze flows through Tachibana’s hair and over his body, grazing Haru’s nose, making him shiver at the scent of grass and something else he can’t quite work out that must come from the knight. However, Tachibana does not respond to the gust of wind. He seems completely content, gaping out into the sky as if it is telling him a story. As if it is ordinary to sit on the glass with a prince.

“You must love these celebrations.”

“Pardon?” Haru asks in a much softer voice than he intended.

Tachibana turns to him, and his smile is still big and gentle. “You must love these celebrations, being a prince. You get to see everyone all the time and toast.”

Haru shifts the focus of his gaze just as Tachibana’s eyes meet his. “Actually, I usually find my way out here before the festival ends. That’s how I found you.”

Some of Tachibana’s relaxation disappears. He sits up straighter. “I am so very sorry, Prince. This is not how I wanted you to notice me. By leaving your festival.”

Haru has to stop himself from telling Tachibana he was noticed the second he was called to be knighted. “It honestly is no trouble or burden of any kind,” he explains. “In fact, I think better of you for coming out here. Most of your comrades are already inebriated and are finding a duchess or duke to escort back to chambers.”

Tachibana’s entire face bleeds red. He laughs shyly, looking away. “More customs I suppose I do not follow.”

Haru wants to smile. It is a blessing that he can make the knight blush too, and it’s even better that Tachibana is unspeakably charming when he’s coy. “I can accept that,” he says. “I don’t follow all of mine either.”

“My word,” Tachibana says, putting a hand to his chest. “I presume even _I_ can have something in common with a prince like you.” The retort is clever, but it’s nothing Haru can’t handle, unfortunately, he has become frozen again. Tachibana is looking right at him, and Haru did not give himself enough time to peer away. He has no choice but to stare back at Tachibana. If Rei was sitting next to Haru, there is no doubt he would call this knight beautiful. This knight with bold green eyes displayed around turned-down eyelids that make him seem permanently at ease, and messy brown hair that is lighter than it should be, and a smile that just feels _real_.

Haru starts feeling ill, like he can’t breathe properly and his heart is beating two seconds too fast. He needs to look away but he can’t, and Tachibana isn’t either. The knight lowers his hand from his chest, placing it on the very edge of the cloak that Haru is sitting on. The wind begins another dance across the sky, and the air blows around and between them. Haru shivers again, and this time Tachibana tenses his shoulders, like he felt it, too.

“Prince!” Rei’s voice calls from behind them. Haru gasps. He whisks his body around and sees Rei near the side of the tent. The toast - it must be time. Haru’s heart returns to its normal rhythm but it is mostly from disappointment. He turns back to Tachibana, and he must make a face for Tachibana soon smiles.

“For the best,” the knight says. “I am not the only man who was knighted today. I’m sure you will find better conversation with one of the others.” He stands up; Haru follows suit. He feels disoriented and wants to say that there will be no better company at the festival, but he can’t, and Haru cannot state with certainly why he even feels the desire to say such a thing to a knight.

“I have the toast,” Haru tries to explain for some reason, picking up Tachibana’s cloak for him. The knight is startled, and Haru can practically hear Rei’s gasp from behind him. This too is nowhere near proper etiquette, but Haru doesn’t care. He wants to be respectful to this man, no matter his ranking.

“Thank you. I’m sure you will be exemplary,” Tachibana says, nervously taking the cloak and attaching it, along with his sheath, once more to his persons. When he is neat again, Tachibana bows, gracefully holding out his arm and looking right at Haru. “It was the upmost pleasure speaking with you, Prince Haruka. You…you’re just as I thought you would be.”

Haru’s face flips through five shades of red. ‘ _How long has the knight thought of me, and is it good or bad that I turned out as expected?’,_ he ponders. Haru doesn’t mean to but he bites his bottom lip, keeping his hands firmly at his side. He is completely taken by the knight’s candor – once again – and Tachibana speaks in such a caring, tender voice as if he truly means his words. “You are very welcome,” Haru says after too long of a silence. Tachibana either does not realize this or does not care for he simply stands up right again. He gives Haru a nod then starts jogging off. “Knight,” Haru calls. Tachibana instantly returns.

“Prince?”

Haru feels silly and flustered but he is still a Nanase. “It was nice to speak with you as well, Knight Tachibana.”

Tachibana’s eyes flare briefly but he shortly relaxes. He smiles at Haru, resting one hand on his sheath and the other against his neck, and Haru cannot understand how someone so massive can be so unassuming. “Well, this is probably against another custom, but if you want, you are more than welcome to simply call me Makoto. Knight Tachibana is almost painfully too formal and impressive for someone like me.” Haru says nothing as Makoto gives him one last bow before heading back to the tent.

When the knight vanishes completely, Rei casually strides up to Haru, adjusting his spectacles. “I take it you found Tachibana?” Haru turns away to hide his face that for sure has not returned to its normal color. “Hmm. Interesting,” Rei adds. “I hope this means you have energy for your toast.”

“ _Annoying_ ,” Haru mutters, throwing up his hands and walking past Rei and back to the tent with his head held high. All the knights are gathering in the middle of the room while everyone else spreads out around them holding glasses. Haru’s parents are still at their table. He joins them, picking up his goblet and turning to the king. As Prince Haruka’s father begins his part of the speech, Haru looks out into the crowd, into the group of knights who have just been welcomed into his kingdom. The knight in green robes finds his gaze, gives him a minute grin, like it’s in encouragement, as if his encouragement would mean anything to someone like Haru. The prince finds himself vaguely covering his mouth with a hand.

“Makoto,” Haru breathes against his palm, grinning just slightly.


	2. A Steel Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything I am doing is for my family..."

Makoto smiles and waves as the people of his village welcome him home. Not too many residents of the minuscule town own their very own steed, so the clomping of horse feet against the dirt roads causes some villagers to peek outside their homes and shops. “Good morrow, Tamura-san!” he calls out to an elderly woman sweeping the outside of her cottage.

Ms. Tamura beams up at him, waving slowly and clutching her broom for support. “Welcome home, Makoto-chan!”

Makoto continues waving and bidding folks good morrow as he steadily rides through town, taking the long way back to his own home. It is important that he finds out what has changed in the time while he’s been gone, and he is tremendously relieved that businesses are still open and cottages are still standing. It has only been about three months since he was last here, but Makoto gravely knows from experience that all it takes is a singular day for everything in life to change. He begins to slow down his horse, pulling on its reins as he reaches a small, two-story cobbler shop made of stone and wood.

“Steady. Here, steady,” Makoto says gently to his horse while he tugs on the reins to make him stop. He leans over, petting his horse’s black hair and whispering gratitude as he gazes at his cottage. Even though not much time has passed, seeing his home now, it suddenly feels as if years have gone by since he was last upstairs daydreaming in his bed. Makoto swings his leg over and jumps off his horse. He gives him an apple from his travel bag and is in the process of tying him to the shade post when two very loud, high-pitched screams break him from his sensitive moment with his steed.

“ONII-CHAN!” his younger twin siblings bellow as they run up to him, arms outstretched and tears splashing their eyes.

Makoto bends down just in time, grunting as the identical storms fly into his arms and almost knock him back. However, he welcomes the brute force. His precious brother and sister mean the absolute world to him, and they provide him with a strong, loving strength that he will never take for granted. Makoto holds them as snugly as possible, instantly closing his eyes and taking in their innocent smell of earth and caramel. “Ren. Ran,” he finally breathes, “I have missed you both so very much. You already seem bigger.”

“ _Onii-chan_ ,” Ren cries as he becomes the first to pull away. Fat tears roll down his faintly dirty cheeks, and his light brown eyes are red and puffy. “Onii-chan, I was worried you would not come back and Ran hit me because she said you promised to come back and Father made me-”

“Ren, settle,” Makoto soothes, placing his hand on his younger brother’s cheek. Ren sniffles loudly and puts a tiny hand over his. Makoto keeps his other arm wrapped around Ran. He pulls her close to his chest, and she tucks her head underneath his chin. Makoto kisses the top of his sister’s head while he brushes his brother’s tears away; his movements are relaxed, gentle, and expert. He may not feel the most confident on the battlefield or during swordsman practice, but comforting his younger siblings is a skill Makoto mastered years ago, and he is damn proud of it.

“I promised you, Ren, and I promised you, Ran,” Makoto says plainly. “I swore to Father and Mother, too. I will _always_ return home - no matter what happens. You are my family, and family stays together. It’s my duty to take care of you as your older brother, and that is a promise I make without end.”

“I told Ren this, onii-chan,” Ran whines, hugging her small arms around his neck. “I knew you would come home. You love us too much to leave forever.” Ran’s voice carries its usual vigor, but Makoto can feel from her arms how badly she is trembling. He closes his eyes again, feeling the muscles in his chest tighten.

Parting with the twins always takes such a heavy toll on them, and while he is touched every time by their emotion at his return, Makoto cannot help but sometimes wish for them to hurry and grow up. Just so this will no longer be so hard. He is simply exhausted by his guilt and plagued by the fear and sadness of Ran and Ren. He wishes it all to stop.

“T-that is wonderfully correct, Ran,” Makoto finally manages to say once he has allowed the extreme feeling to pass through and out of him. “I love you all far, _far_ too dearly.”

“Onii-chan,” Ren cries again as he falls into the free space on the other side of Makoto. He embraces him and holds both his siblings as they relinquish the full extent of their tears and woes.

When Ren and Ran are finally stable enough to stand up on their own, Makoto lets them go and smiles. “I have gifts for you,” he says. The twins’ eyes light up; they madly jump in place.

“Gifts?” Ran asks excitedly, her long, dark hair bouncing beautifully along with her.

“For _us_?” Ren asks.

Makoto tries not to squeal like a nutter. “Yes. A separate gift for each of you!” He can’t possibly lie to himself well enough to state that surprising the twins with gifts doesn’t make him giddy. It just feels so good to be able to bring them home new toys. Makoto reaches into one of his carrier baskets on his horse and pulls out a tied piece of old cloth. “As I always say.” He bends down to his siblings, winking and opening the bag. “Good children get rewarded.” He then pulls out a long and clean cut of orange silk, handing it to Ran. “For you. Now you can make your dolls the finest of dresses.”

Ran gasps as she takes the silk, draping it around his shoulders and rubbing it against her cheek. “Onii-chan! This is so _pretty_! Arigatou!”

Makoto tugs softly on one of her pigtails. “I’m thrilled you enjoy it, Ran.” Next, he takes the large sword hilt out of the bag, placing it to Ren’s chest. “For you. This is a real knight’s hilt from a sword for you to practice with. It even has a few nicks from battle.”

Ren’s jaw drops. “From a _real_ battle?” He holds the hilt out into the sky, twisting it as if he’s wielding a real sword in his hand.

Makoto tilts his head to the side as he watches his gifts turn the twins from devastation to jubilation. He only wishes he could have given them more. Supplied Ran with an entirely new wardrobe of her own and offered Ren his first polished and sturdy fighting sword. However, for now, this will have to be enough. This is all Makoto has to offer them.

“Well, don’t just stand here idol. Go have fun!” he orders. The twins instantly cheer and give his leg a big, sloppy hug before they run down the dirt road to undoubtedly flaunt their gifts to neighbors.

Makoto smiles after them for a few moments then looks back at his house. He simply stares at it for a while, staying very still. Now that the twins have welcomed him, Makoto feels guilty for no longer being excited to go inside – but he cannot help himself. The twins’ grief is one obstacle, but the rest of his family’s troubles are something else entirely. Makoto knows, in the deepest truths of his heart, that if there were any reason to stay away from this village, the pain that arises in his home would be enough.

Even so, Makoto does not let _one_ minute of the day go by without reminding himself that he is a Tachibana, so no matter what he feels or desires or wants to disappear from, nothing comes before his family or his duty to its members.

Makoto takes a deep breath, unlatching a basket from the side of his saddle. He nods to himself and rolls back his shoulders as he walks up the path and into the shop.

His father’s worn tools, binding equipment, shoe molds, and accessories are as always scattered about the floor, tables, and walls of the small space. A strong scent of oil and leather greets Makoto’s nose like an additional family member, and he relaxes as much as possible in the slightly heated air. He looks around the empty shop room, debating if he should go upstairs to the living quarters of the meager building. “Father?” he tries first. “It’s Makoto. I’ve just arrived.”

Makoto hears light footsteps above him and a few moments later a tall, lanky man appears walking down the short staircase. “Makoto,” his father says when he reaches the bottom step. The tightness in Makoto’s chest stretches more taut. His father’s white work apron is dingy and full of holes, and his shoulders seem two-finger widths more hunched over than the last time Makoto saw him. What’s worse, his father’s eyes are bloodshot, and his shaggy hair is even messier than Makoto’s own. The man seems positively shattered. In spite of this, his father is smiling, brightly. “My son,” he softly says. He stretches his arms out, and Makoto meets him in an embrace. “My son,” he repeats.

“I’m home,” Makoto answers, closing his eyes and taking it everything that statement means. He could have used his final off-duty days to travel or even attend other festivals as some of his fellow knights offered, but Makoto knew there was no place he could go to other than home. This hug with his father secures all his beliefs in that fact.

“Are you well?” he father asks, holding him firmly.

Makoto embraces him just as securely. “Yes, very well. I am blessed.”

His father finally pulls away to get a good look at him. He takes off his broken spectacles, shaking his head and rubbing one of his eyes. It makes Makoto even more emotional for his father gives a striking resemblance of Ren under this condition. “That you certainly are. Soon you will be taller than me. Taller than your uncle, conceivably.” He rubs his hands together. “So, your title?”

“Knight Tachibana or Sir Makoto,” Makoto says, bowing. “The ceremony was two days past.”

“How extraordinary!” his father cheers. “Your letters were stimulating, but I knew it would not suffice until I heard you in person. Oh my, I wish with everything inside of me that we could have been there for you. You’re the first man in our entire family to achieve such an honor. You make us all so very proud, Sir Makoto.”

Makoto has to look away from his father and fuss instead with the basket he brought in. No one more than he wishes his family could have been present for the ceremony. All the other knights had family or friends attending some portion of the city festival, but there was no plausible way his family could make such an expensive voyage, even for one day. Nevertheless, this known fact did not stop Makoto from praying like a schoolboy that his family would magically show up as he was knighted by the king, or sworn in by the calm, elegant prince…

“I decided to bring the ceremony back home,” Makoto quickly says before he allows his brain to fuddle itself in memories of the prince. He had spent the entire journey back thinking about the Blue Royalty and all his delicate wonders, and Makoto swore to himself that he would stop once he dismounted. It is purely _not_ proper behavior, nor is it fair to his family that he sees so little of already.

“Makoto, my boy, we told you not to trouble yourself-”

“- it was no trouble, and I wanted to. I told you that I would bring something back this time. As a knight, I _should_ be able to bring better items back.” Makoto sets the basket on a small table, laying out the contents. “I’ve got bread, cheese, fruits, and even some gingerbread.”

His father slowly reaches out, touching the handle of the basket as if he is not worthy enough of its filling. “Cheese? Gingerbread?”

Makoto nods, knowing full well how scarce those foods are in this cottage. “Yes. It was a lovely feast.”

His father sits at the table, looking from the food then back to Makoto, as if he still is unsure. “And did you eat enough?”

Makoto laughs dryly and detaches his sword from his belt to provide himself more time to concoct a lie. He was taught at an early age to _always_ eat when given the opportunity, and the knighting festival had certainly offered him treasures he had never seen before. However, Makoto had been entirely too nervous and anxious to eat very much, but he cannot disclose this to his father. Not when the man easily gives up his portion of dinner so that the twins can go to bed with fuller stomachs.

“Yes, I ate plenty,” Makoto finally comes up with. “You would have been pleased.”

“There’s my boy!” his father says, briefly slapping a hand on his shoulder. “I am so thankful that they provide you with good food. It puts my mind at ease knowing at least one of my children is always properly fed.” His father smells the gingerbread. “And bless you for these gifts. We should eat this instead of what we have prepared for your banquet.”

“Don’t waste this food on me,” Makoto says, shaking his head. “Eat it only after I leave again. Whatever we are having later is more than enough for me.”

“Only if you are sure, son.”

“Yes, quite positive,” Makoto assures. He peeks around, knowing he needs to change the subject. The last thing he wants to do is make his father fill inadequate as a provider. “So…how is business?” Makoto realizes instantly that he has made another mistake. He bows his head. “Gomen. I…”

“That is quite unnecessary, Son,” his father says, holding up his hand. He chuckles just slightly, but it falls into a heavy sigh. A sigh Makoto has grown to understand as _troubled_. “Business is difficult as of late,” his father confesses. “It is always slower during the warmer months, and given that I’m always upstairs, it has been hard to find good business hours. I’ve taken a few house visits, but it is not nearly enough.” His father gazes around his shop, somehow still with a smile on his face. “All is not so dreary, of course. Nagisa is as always helpful. Whether it’s with money or keeping after the twins.”

Makoto perks up a little, giving a smile to match his father’s. “Where is he? I expected him to climb up my back when I arrived.”

“I’m sure he plans to,” his father says, laughing. “He’s actually on his way over. He had a prestigious order and hand-delivered it himself.”

“That is delightful!” Makoto exclaims, feeling even more excited. “He must have cluttered the entire house.”

“Yes, well, you know your cousin,” his father says with a slight shake of his head. “Chaos is the fire to his mechanism, but if it will help in his journey of joining a prestigious guild then I refuse to stand in his way.” His father yawns and once again takes off his spectacles.

“What happened to your lens?” Makoto asks.

His father stops mid-yawn, and a crease forms down his forehead. A grave expression magnified by his lenses stares back at Makoto. “Oh Son, your mother did this. She had a fit in her sleep last week.”

The tightness in Makoto’s chest that has been stretching further and further ever since he arrived finally snaps. All the happiness of earlier dissipates from his body, and the knight quickly licks his lips as if to shield them from the words that are about to burn his tongue. “Mother…is she still unwell?”

His father says nothing, only tightly holds his hands together as if silently praying. “Are you ready to see her?”

“Yes, of course,” Makoto answers without really taking the question into consideration.

“Very well. Just remember, Son, she barely knows who I am today.”

Makoto follows his father upstairs. They pass the mess of the twins and Nagisa, heading straight for the back bedroom. Lying in bed and wearing a white gown soaked completely through to the skin is his mother.

“She’s lost weight,” Makoto says, marching over and kneeling beside her. Her chest barely rises and falls, and her eyes stay focused on the ceiling. Her lips are cracked, there’s crust around her mouth, and all her color has been washed away. He presses his lips tightly together as he runs his hand through her hair. It’s wilted and oily but still so incredibly dark and gorgeous, like Ran’s. He doesn’t know what to say, even after so many times seeing her like this.

After having the twins, his mother caught a terrible case of childbed fever. To this day she still has not fully recovered, so for years she’s gone through cycles of being relatively healthy and periods where she cannot even chew for herself. “It has been a bad few weeks,” his father admits, crumpling to the stool on the other side of the bed. “She hasn’t eaten much or gotten out of bed.”

Makoto balls his fist. He wants to shout at his father for not telling him. He wants to get on his horse and ride away even more, but he knows he cannot do either of those things. This is his life – _his family_ – he has no choice but to stay right here. “Mother?” Makoto whispers, hoping something in her will hear him.

His father touches her shoulder. “Sweetheart, it’s Makoto. He’s home. Makoto, your eldest son.”

“Mother?” Makoto says again, placing a hand to her burning face.

His mother’s eyelashes lazily flutter, and she seems to come alive at the touch. She turns her head slowly to him, and her hollow, green eyes search his face. “Ma-Makoto?” she wisps.

Makoto smiles, nodding and sniffling. “Yes, Mother, it’s me. I’m home.”

“Makoto,” his mother breathes. “You came back. My…my knight sweetheart.”

Makoto closes his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Y-yes, I’m a knight now. Just like we talked about.”

His mother continues to stare at him and soon her vacancy becomes confusion. “My son…he died in the raids. My son, Makoto.”

“N-no, Mother, I’m right here, remember?” Makoto asks. He places one of her clammy hands to his face. “I am Makoto. I am right here. Remember your son?”

His mother shakes her head, snatching her hand away. “No. _No_. My knight is lost. My son is dead.”

“Mother-”

“ – I think we should let her rest,” his father says, placing a damp cloth on her forehead. Makoto has no time to respond before his father is shooing him away from her and out of the room. “I’m so sorry, Son,” he rushes as Makoto is nearly pushed over the threshold. “Allow me time to get your mother to drink some water and put her back to sleep. Then you can tell me all about the ceremony and the Nanase family.”

His father goes right back to her bedside, and Makoto simply watches, feeling helpless. He realizes that he cannot bear the sight and proceeds to go back downstairs. He dabs his eyes before they even begin to moisten, and he tells himself to think about something else. He does not have enough days with his family to depress himself with matters he cannot control - at least, not yet control.

“I will be able to afford medicine,” Makoto repeats aloud as he sits at the table. He looks at his sword, reminding himself that this is why he became a knight. He _will_ be able to buy his family food, clothes, toys, spectacles, and remedies once he starts earning money from the kingdom. From the Nanase family…

Makoto’s heart skips a beat at the thought of the royal family, in particular the prince, and he smiles despite himself. All day he has been trying not to fawn over Prince Haruka’s memory, but Makoto can’t deny how good it feels when he lets himself remember their conversation, or how pleasantly the prince had treated him, or how he’s probably the prettiest person Makoto has ever seen in his life. _Beautiful_ actually, and in the way Makoto would describe a girl, yet with all the beauty of a man as well. If such a concept even makes sense…

“Tachibana!” a voice calls from outside. “I’m right here waiting, Tachibana!”

Makoto is suddenly ripped from his Prince Haruka daydream. He sighs, standing up and attaching his sword hilt to his belt. He does not expect a fight, but knights are always prepared for battle. He walks outside and is unsurprised to find Matsuoka Rin standing next to his grey stallion. Rin has his arms crossed over his chest, and his usual glower is fired across his face.

Makoto calmly reaches inside his saddle pouch and pulls out two apples. He gives one to his steed while offering the other to Rin. “For Shark,” he says.

Rin takes the apple and feeds his horse with not apparent gratitude. “You think a treat suffices?”

“What do you want from me, Rin?”

Rin walks over to him. His red eyes are fierce, but Makoto renounced being intimidated by him years ago. He is a full-ledged knight now, so Makoto stands his ground. “I want you to tell me that the tale is _not_ true,” Rin says. “I want you to profess that you’ve returned because you have finally seen reason.”

“I’ve returned because this is my last chance to see my family and the village before my initiation commences,” Makoto explains.

Rin grimaces, rubbing the sides of his skull. “Then it happened? You’re knighted?”

“I joined the brotherhood, yes.”

“Damn you, Makoto - you big dummy!” Rin insults. “I cannot believe you. I cannot believe you would betray us all. That you would betray my father.”

“I am honoring your father,” Makoto says, trying not to raise his voice. “I’m taking every skill he taught us and using it to make a decent living. You should do the same.”

“I would rather die than work for the kingdom that destroyed my family!” Rin shouts, stomping his foot and wrapping his hand around his hilt. Makoto casually brushes his hilt with his knuckles. He has no intentions on dueling Rin, but he does not completely blame Rin for wanting to combat. Rin’s father was the finest blacksmith their village had ever known. He taught Rin and Makoto everyday about swords and fighting techniques, but it was discovered during the Village Rebellions that he had made weapons for the radicals. Rin’s father was thrown in prison where he soon died of Typhoid.

Makoto is not sure of what to do. Rin is never one to back down when he’s angry, but their friendship is far too fragile for Makoto to embarrass him in a sword match. He has to keep the situation civil. “Becoming a knight is not what I mean,” Makoto tries. “You recognize in your heart that you are supposed to take over the shop. It’s been seven years since this village has had a Matsuoka blacksmith.”

Rin lowers his hand and crunches up his face, but his tears break through regardless. “No,” he says, roughly rubbing his eyes. “My job is retribution. My only reason for coming back here is to form anarchy against the kingdom. For two years I have done nothing but ask you to join my cause – _our_ cause – yet here you are, enlisting with the very people I plan to ravage.”

“We both know you will accomplish nothing under those terms,” Makoto says. “I’m sure your mother and Gou-”

“- do _not_ bring my sister into this...”

“But why not?” Makoto questions. “Do her feelings not matter? Do you believe she wants you to crawl your way back from death?” Rin groans and pushes Makoto’s chest. He is caught off guard but does not falter. Rin seems surprised by Makoto’s balance, as he should be. Makoto is taller, bigger, and much more experienced now. However, Makoto will never refute the raw power that Matsuoka Rin possesses. “Rin, I know your sister would rather have you here. At home and safe. I… _I_ would rather have you here. At home and safe.”

Rin, for the first time, relaxes and lets the anger chip away from his face. He takes a glance at Makoto’s cottage then around the village. “This is not a choice, Makoto. This is just something I have to do. I have to protect us.”

“So do I,” Makoto eases. “Rin, you left to live with your uncle when we were only thirteen. You were gone for five years. What else was I supposed to do? How else could I make sure that I could protect this village? What was left after the raids?”

“Not employ yourself with executioners,” Rin spits at him with ease. “Not betray your people and everything our lives have shown us. Not betray me.”

A new tightness forms in Makoto’s chest as he stares down his oldest friend. They’ve known each other for ages. _Always_ have had each other’s backs, but so much has happened since they were simple boys purely trying to survive poverty. Now, they are very two different people. Makoto is a knight: A servant to the kingdom. Rin is a rebel: An activist against the thrown.

As much as Makoto loathes and is saddened by their new association, he understands that he cannot allow himself to feel guilt or regret. His destiny in life is bigger than any sole desire he possesses. His only fate is to defend and provide for his family.

Makoto takes a larger step toward Rin, and this time Rin backs up. Makoto shouldn’t relish in the gesture, but he does. “I did not betray you. Everything I am doing is for my family. Every treasure and bounty I collect will go to them. Every rank I gain is to better protect our village and every single one of its residents.” Makoto stops to breathe. “I know you think I’m a trader and that I don’t care about what has happened to us, but you have been gone for a very long time. You do not know me so well anymore, Matsuoka.”

“So who does?” Rin asks. “Your fellow knights? The king and queen? Does the prince know you?”

“Do not talk ill of Prince Haruka!” Makoto instantly declares, placing his hand back on his hilt – this time vaguely pulling the sword loose.

“MAKO-CHAN!” a voice squeals. Both Makoto and Rin jump. Before Makoto can even location the direction of the voice, blond locks of hair obscure his vision.

“O-oh, Nagisa!” Makoto gasps, circling his arms around his cousin. He sets Nagisa down, but the small bundle of muscle stays attached for a few extra seconds before releasing.

“Mako-chan! I sprinted as fast as I could!” Nagisa cheers, raising a leg as he claps his hands. “ _Oh_! Perhaps I shouldn’t call you Mako-chan anymore. You _are_ a fancy knight now. Knight-chan, perhaps? What do you reason, Rin-chan?” Nagisa tugs on Rin’s arm, giving him a bright smile.

Rin glares at Nagisa but predictably it fades. He bends down to him. “I think you know how I feel about the _chan_ , Nagisa.” He flicks the tip of Nagisa’s nose then nods to Makoto. “This is far from over, Makoto.”

“Rin, please,” Makoto says. Rin doesn’t respond. He gets right back on his steed and gallops away.

Makoto watches the dirt clouds that follow him, and Nagisa hugs his arm. “I’ve missed you, Mako-chan. So has Rin. More than I am sure he’s told you.”

Makoto looks down at Nagisa’s big pink eyes that gaze at him with so much tenderness and faith. He can’t help but to smile. “Well, I’ve missed you both, too. Father told me you presented a good piece?”

“Yes! A cooking pot for a noble,” Nagisa says excitedly. “If it is well received I might get more commission from him. That would certainly help me and the family.”

“I’m proud of you, Nagisa,” Makoto says in all sincerity. “And thank you for helping us while I was gone. You will never understand how much it means to me.”

Nagisa waves a hand. “It’s no chore. We are family, and family stays together. What's more, we should _not_ be talking of tedious matters. Tell me _all_ about the ceremony and the Nanase family!”

The rest of the day is spent trying to summon every detail Makoto can expose about knighthood to Nagisa. He laughs and feels lighter each time his cousin gasps or cheers or bounces from excitement. It is a great feeling, knowing that his years of dedication and rigorous training can impress. Little time seems to pass by when night falls and the rest of the Hazuki family arrive for Makoto’s special banquet. All anyone wants to hear about is the Nanase royalty, but this subject, unlike specifications of knighthood, is an area Makoto is not so sure he is happily open to discuss.

Makoto is uncertain why, but he purposely does not disclose his private interaction with Prince Haruka. He simply feels uncomfortable telling such an intimate story, even though the knight _obviously_ knows the moment meant nothing to someone like the prince. Nonetheless, Makoto is still in complete disarray as he explains the knighting ritual and kissing the prince’s ring. He tries his hardest not to look at anyone directly for fear they will see his embarrassing blush, and he still has not decided on a reason as to why merely _thinking_ about the prince turns him so peculiar.

Even later that same night in bed, with his mom down the hall sick and his twin siblings across the room wiggling and snoring lightly in their sleep, Makoto finds himself looking out the window and thinking about the prince, wondering what he might be doing and if he is looking at the moon right now, too. Makoto sighs, reminiscing how he actually stargazed with the prince. He had tried with all his might not to say anything stupid or make too quick a moment and startle the crownless raven…

“Mako-chan?” Nagisa whispers from the floor next to him.

Makoto takes a glance at his sleeping siblings before answering. “Yes?”

“Are you awake?”

“I’m answering you, correct?”

“Right. Come on. Let’s go outside.” Nagisa gets up from the floor and wraps his thick blanket around him. Makoto slips into his boots and tunic, grabbing his sword and tucking it under his arm.

“What is the matter?” Makoto asks as they make it outside. He shivers and shakes his head at his cousin. It never fails that Nagisa pulls him out of bed to talk whenever he sleeps over.

Nagisa spins around, gazing up at the stars. “I only want to talk a little longer. You’re the first knight I have never known, Mako-chan.”

Makoto smiles, leaning against the shade post. “What more do you want to know?”

“The _family_ ,” Nagisa urges. “Were they pompous? Were they nice to you?”

“They were professional, yes,” Makoto concludes, and before he can stop himself he adds, “The prince was very nice to me.”

“The prince,” Nagisa repeats. “What does he look like up close?”

“Like a painting,” Makoto says without thinking. He stares at all the stars, feeling a phantom breeze pass over him. Even though it had been dark, the knight is sure he can evoke every detail of the prince’s face. “Prince Haruka is beautiful. He’s delicate but not delicate – like you. And he has eyes like the ocean, or how I imagine it. And his hair is like unburned coal, and his voice is…” Makoto trails off as Nagisa’s smile grows more and more the longer he speaks. Makoto scoffs, feeling horrified. “I’m finished talking.”

“No – no. Continue!” Nagisa teases. “You were flustered all through dinner speaking about him. I needed to know if it was merely a fluke, but that does not appear to be the case.”

“Nagisa…”

“Did you charm him?”

“What? No – of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“But is that not what knights do?”

“Not me!” Makoto urges. “I am not one of those soldiers. You know this.”

Nagisa giggles, pulling on his arm. “Yes, _of course_ I do. I’m simply teasing, Knight Tachibana.”

“Knight Tachibana,” Makoto breathes, running a hand through his hair. “I still cannot believe it.”

“I can – the whole village can,” Nagisa says, shrugging. “If anyone was born a leader and a protector, it’s you, Mako-chan. I’m proud of you, and your family is proud of you. Rin is so very proud of you.”

Makoto shrugs. “He hates me. He thinks I betrayed everyone.”

“He’s angry,” Nagisa says. “Still so angry, but he will come around. In his own time. I am honestly still so angry, too.” Nagisa looks away, and only for an instant does his smile fade. “But just being furious isn’t enough. You have to do something positive with it.”

“Like you?” Makoto asks with a grin.

Nagisa spins around again. “Yes, I am trying. Trying for my parents, my sisters, and for myself.” He pats Makoto’s arm. “I want to make my mother proud as you make your mother proud.”

The tightness in Makoto’s chest pulls again. He clears his throat. “But how do I make her proud? She remembered me for a few moments…then thought I was somewhere else. Dead.”

Nagisa is not quick enough to hide his cringe. “It’s just a bad spell. It always passes. You just have to keep fighting for her, so that when she is well again, you can tell her all about your accomplishments. She will remember every last detail. As will I. As will everyone.”

This time, it is Makoto who is not quick enough. He dabs his eyes but a measly tear escapes. He tells himself never to let this happen again. He _must_ stay strong in order to save his family. “T-thank you, Nagisa. I am so thankful for your presence.”

Nagisa’s eyes widen. His cheeks stain pink, and he gasps. “Oh, Mako-chan! What are cousins for?”

~~~

Makoto’s next two days in the village are filled with stories of his endeavors as a swordsman and knight of the palace. The village folk offer him treats and gifts that he knows could have been put to better use. He tries his best to take all the attention and praise with poise, but it is genuinely so embarrassing and bizarre to him. He is still the same clumsy Makoto he has always been. Still too large for his own good, and certainly still unable to venture down dark corridors without fearing ghosts.

On Makoto’s final morning before his two-day journey back to the palace, he finds himself packed early and sitting outside on the dirt road, petting a stray cat. He sighs as the kitten purrs against his leg, and he scratches behind its ear. These are his last few moments as a common Tachibana. When he returns to the kingdom, he will arrive as a true knight. He will have true missions that will test everything he believes in. He may battle in duels that have no good outcomes for him.

It is a rush of a feeling, but Makoto also feels guilty for accepting the idea of being free from his old life and starting a new one. A life not tied down by sickness or constraint or poverty. However, he only lets the excitement linger for a few, delicate minutes. He is a knight so that he can help his family. _Not_ run away from it. Everything he will do is for them – the missions, battles, and keeping the royal family safe. _Keeping the prince safe_. Makoto smiles despite himself; he will soon return “home” to the prince. It is a silly deduction for the knighting quarters and the prince’s chambers are clearly located at two different ends of the castle, but that does not prevent Makoto’s insides from twisting in anticipation…

Makoto eases back into the house and to his mother’s bedside. He slips a kiss on her damp forehead, running his hand through her hair. “I love you, Mother, and I will not let you down, I promise. I’ll send money so Father can get you better medicine, and then you can be a mother again. _My_ mother again.” He waits for her to open her eyes or even stir at his company, but she stays frozen. Frozen and so far away from him.

“Makoto,” his father whispers as he rises from his side of the bed. “I am sure she heard you.” Makoto looks up at him and smiles a little, but it is just as hollow as his mother’s current state. He leaves the room and decides to wait for the rest of his family by his horse.

His father, Nagisa, and the twins are still yawning when they trail out of the cottage to meet him. “Y-you must leave so early?” Nagisa asks as he wraps his arms around Makoto’s neck.

“Long journey, unfortunately,” Makoto says, holding him back. “Write to me. Let me know what becomes of your pottery, and keep an eye on the twins for me.”

“Of course, Mako-chan,” Nagisa says. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Nagisa,” Makoto says. He is thankful the twins are still half-asleep and aren’t quite sure what’s happening. They simply hold on to him, asking repeatedly when he will return. “As soon as I can,” Makoto assures them. “I’ll be home before you start to miss me. Be good children for Father and Mother. Keep each other safe.”

“We will, onii-chan. Love you,” Ran says with a yawn.

“Please come back, onii-chan,” Ren says, tugging on Makoto’s ear. “Love you.”

Makoto embraces them both. “I will always come home. I love you both so much. More than anything else in the whole world.” Nagisa has to pull the clingy twins away so Makoto can embrace his father.

His father’s hug is unexpectedly strong. “Keep yourself well and safe from harm. This family needs you.”

“I know,” Makoto says, feeling his hold weaken. He understands better than anyone just how badly everyone is depending on his success. “I will be all right. Please tell Ren and Ran everyday that I love them. When Mother starts remembering me again, tell her that I will make her proud.”

“You already make us both proud. No parents in the world are luckier.” His father pulls away and smiles through his exhaustion and worry. “Our beautiful son. Our eldest boy. You carry the name of Tachibana to every satisfaction.”

Makoto is unsure of how a statement so incredible can make him feel so anxious. He takes a step back before his father can realize that he is shaking. “I will send word when I arrive, and I will return, I promise.”

Everyone beams and waves keenly as Makoto boosts himself onto his horse. He looks down at his little family. At the rags and dirt and cracked lines in their hands and feet. Makoto promises himself that they will not always look this way. He will personally make sure that each and every one of them will live a better life – a happier, safer, and more plentiful life. That’s why he has to leave. That’s why he always leaves.

“I love you all. Take care of each other.” Makoto gives them a final nod then pulls the reins on his horse, tapping his boot gently against its side. His steed bucks then swiftly starts galloping away from the Tachibana cottage and steadily out of the dilapidated village all together.

It is a welcomed two-day trip; he takes pleasure in the peace and quiet. The silence of hearing his horse’s feet click against the ground path, the much needed time to assort his goals as a knight, and to once more comprehend that this is all actually happening.

~~~

Once Makoto finally arrives back at the palace, the prince’s gentleman, Ryugazaki Rei, first greets him. Makoto enjoys this man’s company purely because he makes Makoto think of Nagisa. His cousin would probably throw a gleeful fit spending an entire day with Ryugazaki, plucking his glasses and ruffling his poised demeanor.

“Knight Tachibana.” Ryugazaki bows.

“I hope I am not tardy,” Makoto says.

“No – no. In fact, you are the first to return from travels,” Ryugazaki says.

Makoto tries not to audibly sigh. He is _always_ the one from the brotherhood to go off course. “I apologize.”

“There is no burden,” Ryugazaki assures. “I have always believed that punctuality is a virtue.” Makoto can only shrug, and he tells himself to let it be the last time. He is not a peasant anymore.

“Yes, I agree as well. Very much so,” Makoto states.

Ryugazaki gives him a once over and a twitch of a smile. “Right. Well, since you are here, I presume it is more than acceptable to give you my division of the tour. Now, I am sure the baron, chamberlain, and constable…”

Makoto continuously nods and does his best to listen to the gentleman as conditions of his knighthood within the castle walls and kingdom limits are once again disclosed. He also tries not to blush and appear so unbearably overwhelmed by the luxuries and amenities his knighthood grants him. There is food, his own real bed, a proper stable for his steed, and a chamber dedicated to swordplay. Makoto will never understand what he has done to deserve such gifts, but he is thankful nonetheless.

Ryugazaki guides Makoto to his own chambers. Where low court officials and other keepers of royalty and of the castle reside. He is taken to a small room that has parchment stacked against the walls and many ink bottles and quills scattered over a messy desk. “Here is where I will be most of time,” Ryugazaki explains. “It is imperative that you remember this location, for when you have needs of the prince.”

“The prince?” Makoto asks, returning once more to the conversation.

“Yes, the prince.” Ryugazaki lifts his spectacles higher on his nose and sighs. Makoto wants to smile, but he holds it in. From what he has gathered, Ryugazaki Rei is no older than him. In fact, he is closer to Nagisa’s age, yet Ryugazaki has to be the most professional, direct, and neatest person Makoto has ever meet. He looks Makoto straight in the face as he speaks, and he often uses words Makoto has never heard anyone utter before. In spite of this, Ryugazaki does not make Makoto uncomfortable. He truly just cannot help but feel… _charmed_ by Ryugazaki. If they were not in such delicate positions, Makoto would probably ask him to be friends.

“As I have already explained,” Ryugazaki says calmly. “As a newly appointed knight, you may be required to escort Prince Haruka or fetch him materials from other cities. The king and queen often have itinerary for their son, so once more, it is imperative that you become familiar with this room.”

Ryugazaki puffs out his chest, and although he is much small than Makoto, he is tall enough to where the gesture holds authority. “I am the prince’s gentleman – most of the time I am by his side. If I am not, I know exactly where he is. You and I maintaining a proper balance of communication is vital for the both of us. Understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” Makoto says. “You probably have the most important job of all. I envy such a title.”

Ryugazaki’s eyes go wide, and a faint hue of pink stains his neck. He blinks at Makoto as if what stands in front of him could not possibly be human. “Curious…” he whispers.

Makoto frowns. “What’s curious?”

“Rei! I _swear_ I will run away if I do _not_ get my oils. I-” Both Makoto and Ryugazaki turn away from each other and to threshold. None other than Prince Haruka is standing before them; Makoto’s heart skips a beat. The prince passes his focus between the two, obviously startled at seeing the knight, and then lowers his head to the side. “I was unaware that-”

“- my apologizes, Prince Haruka,” Makoto declares, instantly kneeling before him. “I was being briefed by your gentleman.”

“Yes, Knight Tachibana arrived early. I am sorry, My Prince,” Ryugazaki says. Makoto lifts his head to the prince. He is simply staring at him, vacantly to add, but somehow Makoto knows that the prince isn’t cross. He would be able to feel it…but he has no idea how that is possible.

“No burden,” Prince Haruka eloquently states. He finally shifts his eyes away from Makoto and to Ryugazaki. “My oils.”

“What of them, My Prince?” Ryugazaki asks.

“I need more,” Prince Haruka declares effortlessly, as if making demands is something he was born to do. “Yet our horse master does not feel it necessary to partake in an excursion today.”

“I will sort this right away, My Prince.” Ryugazaki hastily bows and scurries from the chamber as if he forgot Makoto were there.

With Ryugazaki gone, Prince Haruka looks back at Makoto who is still waiting in a kneeling position. “You may raise,” the prince commands in a soft, dull voice. Makoto instantly stands, which does not provide much comfort. Having to look down at the prince makes him blush. In fact, being in the same space with him _period_ makes Makoto feel unbelievably wobbly. All his life he has heard stories of the Nanase royalty and of the prince, but he is so much more real in person. Makoto saw him and had been this close to him only a few nights past, but it still feels new. Still feels dreamlike. He cannot believe someone his age has so much power, and he cannot begin to imagine what life would be like for him if he were a prince, too.

Makoto just stares at Prince Haruka. He knows it is horribly improper and makes him look a buffoon, but he can’t help himself. Even with all his years of guessing and fantasizing, the prince has somehow turned out to be even more incredible than his predictions. He is so utterly glamorous and poised and gentry. Not to mention, Makoto is certain he has never seen a chin so delightful, skin so flawless, or a pair of eyes so deep and blue before. It should come at no surprise that the prince finds time in his busy day to create masterpieces – he is a masterpiece himself.

“S-so, you paint?” Makoto asks, making the easiest and most obvious statement available, just as he had in the grass.

Prince Haruka blinks his long eyelashes a few times, smoothing black, perfectly straight hair out of his face. The movements are just so graceful that Makoto blushes harder. “Yes, I paint,” the prince simply answers.

Makoto nods like an idiot. “That is extraordinary, being an artist. My cousin is an artist – well, he’s a potter, mostly because he loves thinking about food, but he _is_ quite talented. He wants to be an astrologer, really.” Makoto closes his mouth before he goes any further. He can’t believe how much about Nagisa he just exposed to Nanase royalty without permission. He also cannot understand why he doesn’t know how to shut up around this prince. There is just something about his silence and huge, unflinching eyes that make Makoto want to fill it all up with something.

Prince Haruka stays silent and still, no doubt savoring Makoto squirm. “Yes, well, pottery is an art. I think so anyway.” He turns away and looks down, something Makoto is beginning to realize is a habit of the prince’s. “I have never been taught the skill. My parents believe pottery and carving is below my stature.”

Makoto bows. “Yes, sorry, My Prince. They definitely are.” He closes his eyes, wishing he were not so dense. Making choices and saying the right thing is easier in the village. He has no idea how he will ever get used to this.

“I would love to learn, regardless. I do not believe art has class.”

Makoto stands upright again. Prince Haruka is looking right at him, standing confidently by his words. For a moment he wonders if the prince merely enjoys being polite to lowerclassmen, but he knows first-hand how nasty royalty can behave. Makoto doesn’t see or _feel_ any of that from the prince. He is completely approachable.

“That is incredibly wise of you, Prince Haruka. If I could will it, I would bring you back to my cousin so he can teach you.” Makoto regrets the words the second they leave his lips. He expects guards to escort him out of the kingdom any second now, or the prince to slap him across the face and call him grossly inappropriate.

To Makoto’s surprise, however, the prince faintly grins, and his cheeks flush a pretty pink. “That would be lovely.”

Makoto smiles back at him. The prince is a gorgeous man, but there is something about seeing his happiness that touches deep inside of Makoto and loosens the tight pull in his chest. His hand begins to tingle, and his lips feel just the tiniest of tender. The feeling of kneeling before the prince and professing his allegiance returns. The feeling of sitting so close to the prince and having his warmth on his cloak comes back.

“My Prince!” Ryugazaki gasps as he flies back into the room. He slaps a hand to his wavering chest. “Master will fetch what you require.”

Prince Haruka appears vaguely unfocused as he returns his attention to Ryugazaki. Surprisingly to Makoto, again, the prince touches Ryugazaki’s arm. “Thank you.”

“Of course, My Prince,” Ryugazaki says with a smile.

“I will let you continue your endeavors,” Prince Haruka says. He nods to Makoto. “Knight Tachibana.”

“Makoto,” Makoto corrects before he can stop himself. He immediately feels Ryugazaki stiffen next to him. Prince Haruka must notice, too, for he gives a quick glance at Ryugazaki and a spark seems to soar across his ocean eyes.

“Yes, _Makoto_ ,” Prince Haruka repeats, staring right at Ryugazaki. Makoto is thankful for this distraction as he is confident his ears could not be any more on fire. His name has never sounded so _important_ and _mystical_ before. “Good day to you,” the prince concludes.

“Good day to you, My Prince,” Makoto says, bowing as Ryugazaki bows. Prince Haruka turns to leave, and Makoto does not even notice his feet are moving until he is out the door behind him.

“My Prince?” Makoto rushes.

Prince Haruka stiffens his shoulders, but his face is relaxed and open. “Yes, Makoto?”

Makoto cannot hold back his slight shudder. It’s just a name – a name he’s heard a million times. Hearing it from the prince should _not_ make him feel hot or winded or dizzy. Then again, being this close to him shouldn’t make Makoto’s heart beat out of his chest either. “I-I…I wanted to say…thank you. I have not had a chance to give my praises of your speech. All the knights greatly appreciated and enjoyed your words.”

Prince Haruka’s shoulders unwind, and his eyebrows tilt slightly as if surprised. Makoto doesn’t know why he would be. In Makoto’s mind it makes perfect sense for him to want to thank the prince everyday, although he is unsure why or what ever for. “You are welcome, Makoto. I only hope you and your brotherhood will grant my family more reasons to celebrate.” He walks off again and down the corridor. Makoto wants to proclaim something else but his brain holds nothing.

“It is not wise to become casual with the prince,” Ryugazaki says from behind him. “You have worked hard for your title. It is acceptable for him to use it.” Makoto turns around. Ryugazaki is stern, but there is a pull of a grin on the corner of his mouth. “Which means, of course, that the prince will without doubt call you Makoto. If no other reason than to madden people – particularly me.”

Makoto laughs. “The prince is a bit of an outlaw?”

“Prince Haruka is a bit of everything,” Ryugazaki says, walking out of the chamber as well and gesturing him to join. “Follow me. We are not quite finished.”

Makoto quickly exits and can’t keep his broad smile at bay. ‘ _Prince Haruka is a bit of everything_ ’, he hears repeatedly in his head. The notion excites him, makes him anxious, and creates a force inside of him that he has never felt before. It is a force that shields him from all the true reasons as to why he’s here and possibly the first to arrive.

Makoto may be from a troubled village. He may be poverty-stricken and plain, but in this kingdom he _finally_ gets to be someone else. A knight prepared for anything. A strong, skill swordsman. A protector known to Prince Haruka as, _Makoto_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I've said this yet, but I am so, so very in love with Makoto...*sighs*  
> And YES YES I hear it. Now that we know these men a little better, it's time to start seeing them in action...together...


	3. A Day of Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you ever groomed a horse before?”

Prince Haru sighs blissfully as the cold water underneath him calmly drifts his body around the reservoir. Haru keeps his eyes closed and his limbs relaxed while he loses himself in the serenity. He can’t really hear anything except the _swish_ of water, and the sun’s rays pleasantly keep his exposed skin warm.

This is the best part of Haru’s existence, being left alone to swim and submit himself to all the majestic powers of the water. Every time he dives into the reservoir, it’s as if he’s finally able to breathe. There are no longer any rules or legacies to uphold. It’s purely Haru and the water, moving in complete harmony and creating a separate universe where the only rule Haru has to follow is: _swim free_.

Haru glides his arms through the water to keep moving, and he moans quietly as he floats with ease. The tranquility is extraordinarily soothing; he’s completely safe from harm and at peace with himself. Even with all his riches and treasures, nothing is more satisfying than water, and Haru is certain that nothing else will ever make him feel as good as this.

“Prince?”

Haru gasps and whips open his eyes, feeling disgustingly startled. He immediately submerges into the water, swimming away from the voice. The water opens up for him; it lets him push through and extend the distance between himself and the person calling out to him.

Haru doesn’t stop swimming until he is at the other end of the reservoir. He resurfaces, letting out a gust of air and shaking his head to discharge some of the water from his hair. Haru opens his eyes as he treads in the water and sees Rei standing at the edge of the reservoir.

Rei pushes his spectacles higher on his nose. “Grand escape, of course, but I am still present.”

“You should _not_ be present,” Haru says with a glare while he splashes Rei’s boots with water.

Rei merely wiggles his boots dry. “Indeed, Haru, I do know that you do not like to be disturbed while you are mediating, but I must brief you on the latest affairs.”

“No. Not now,” Haru says, swimming down and away from Rei – who only follows him. “This is my alone time. I get to be by myself right now.”

“But you are not by yourself, Haru,” Rei explains. “You can’t be alone.” Rei’s attention turns toward something behind Haru. Haru looks over his shoulder and to the guard that is patrolling the courtyard around the reservoir.

Haru glares again, but this time at his escort. “I told him to stay silent unless it is an emergency, so he is not a factor.”

“He is most certainly a factor,” Rei says. “He’s here to protect you.”

“Protect me from what – drowning?” Haru asks. “That’s preposterous.”

Rei makes a frustrated noise and sits down in the grass. “Must we do this every time?” he patiently asks. “The king and queen have granted you exclusivity to this area of the courtyard and to the reservoir, but you know the exchange.”

Haru, reluctantly, swims to the edge of the reservoir, resting his arms on the stone. “Yes, I do,” he says, almost in defeat.

Rei nods, not appearing happy either. “So you understand that if you want the freedom of swimming out here as you please, then an escort is required to be here with you.”

Haru laughs dryly at the irony. “That does not sound like freedom to me.”

“Perhaps not,” Rei says, “but you have to be protected.” Rei suddenly tenses his brow. He clears his throat, smoothing down his vest. “Particularly when you are wearing so little clothing outside like this, My Prince. Temptations can run high.”

Without delay, Haru submerges himself back into the water. The last thing he needs is to hear Rei talk about such things. Haru already knows everything his gentleman has to say about “temptations” and keeping his body both flawlessly tempting and also perfectly hidden from everyone.

The Nanase family firmly believes in virtue, and Haru’s mother always tells him that his greatest responsibility until he becomes king is to maintain his modesty. He has to stay pure and untouched until he is given the ideal woman to marry or finds the ideal man to take as his lover.

While Haru stays submerged and moves his arms and legs through the water, he wonders if his mother would still feel a need to protect him if she knew that he has already broken all of her rules. That he forwent his responsibility and has no modesty left to safeguard.

Haru’s chest begins to ache, so he quickly resurfaces for much-needed air. Haru rattles his head again, not only to rid it of water, but also to rid it of all his mistakes. Rei is still sitting in grass when Haru opens his eyes, waiting patiently.

“Feel better?” Rei asks.

“Yes,” Haru lies, resting his arms once more on the edge of the reservoir.

“Then may I carry forward, Prince Haruka?”

“Certainly.”

Rei perks up, pulling out a piece of parchment from his vest. He offers it to Haru who of course does not accept, merely blinks. “It is a personal letter,” Rei continues in saying, opening up the note as if he had never offered it to Haru. “Your parents have received word from the Shigino family. Prince Kisumi is soon to take holiday, and he has requested to see you.”

Haru groans in horror as flashes of pink hair and annoying hands haunt his vision. “So _soon_?” he asks in panic. “No. Tell him I’ve fallen ill – it’s grave.” Rei surprisingly laughs, and for a brief moment Haru forgets about the nightmarish news. It is not often that he gets to see Rei so jovial.

Rei only lets himself go for a few seconds before clearing his throat and pushing up his spectacles. “Regrettably, I am only here to convey the news to you.”

“How did my parents respond?” Haru asks, already knowing the horrible answer.

The Shigino and Nanase families are somewhat neighbors in royalty, and Prince Kisumi has always been in Haru’s life – mostly as an annoyance. The fool is far too spirited, and Haru has never been particularly fond of him.

Unfortunately for Haru, Kisumi does not share his feelings. Haru cannot fathom how many holidays they have spent together; how many times over the years he has slapped Kisumi’s hand away or dodged an unnecessary hug.

Rei expresses a look of sympathy. “The king and queen are delighted,” he says. “They want to hold a formal ball upon his arrival, and Prince Kisumi has additionally requested that you act as his liaison.”

“ _Whatever for_?” Haru asks. “He knows the kingdom. The wretched jester assembled this request solely so that I cannot order him to stop following me.”

“I only convey the news,” Rei calmly says, standing up and straightening his breeches. “I will leave you to your mediation, and you should know that the king feels as though your time out here is nearing its conclusion.”

“As it always does,” Haru breathes, pushing off the wall of the reservoir. Rei gives Haru a small bow and another look of understanding before leaving the courtyard.

Haru sinks into the water, swimming a lap across the reservoir. For some reason his limbs feel heavy, and the temperature of the water is uncomfortably bitter. It becomes painfully obvious to Haru that the serenity he had found earlier has now dissipated.

He attempts a few additional laps, feeling more and more disinterested, before finally giving up. He swims to the edge of the reservoir, nearest to where his escort is patrolling.

Haru watches the guard carefully walk around the courtyard, always keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword. He has not let Haru out of his sight since they came outside, and the guard is not meant to be relieved until Haru is properly dressed and safely back inside the castle.

Haru ponders his dilemma and quickly forms a plan. Regardless of what everyone wants from him, this is still his time to be alone. “Guard!” Haru shouts. “Come forth!”

Haru’s escort turns around, rushing across the courtyard and over to him. He kneels in the grass. “My Prince?” he says, bowing his head.

Haru knows why this man was chosen to guard him as he swims. The color of the man’s beard, and the lines on his face tell Haru that his escort is at least fifteen years older than him – “nonthreatening”.

Haru doesn’t say anything at first. He realizes straight away that he has forgotten the guard’s name – which is regrettable for his plan, but the man seems so eager to assist that Haru knowing his name may not matter.

“I have concluded for the day,” Haru coolly says, slowly running his fingers through his wet hair. The guard’s eyes watch the path of his fingers, and Haru takes the advantage. No matter the age – men always enjoy pretty things. “I hope that I have not troubled you, being out here for so long,” Haru adds, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

The guard raises his head, looking stunned. “Heavens no, My Prince. It is my honor to watch over you.”

Haru smirks, fluttering his eyelashes. “Well, you have been most professional.”

The guard dips his head again. “Thank you, My Prince. Do you need assistance exiting the reservoir?”

Haru uses all of his willpower to not roll his eyes or scoff at such a ridiculous question. “No, that is quite all right,” Haru says as sweetly as he can. “However, because you have done so well today, I would like to relieve you of your duty. I can manage my own way back to the castle.”

Some of the guard’s enthusiasm disappears. He fiddles with his cloak, clearly uncomfortable with whatever he is about to say. “W-well, Prince Haruka, while that is more than a generous offer, I cannot leave you until you are back inside the castle.”

Haru mentally sighs. Mild compliments will not be enough. He will have to take a more active role in the flirtation.

Haru lifts his hand out of the water and reaches out, touching the tip of the guard’s boot with two wet fingers. Haru looks up at him, smirking again. “Perhaps I did not make myself clear,” he says. “I want to relieve you early so that you will have time to think about what you would like for me to paint.”

The guard keeps his focus tied to Haru’s fingers on his boot. “Paint, My Prince?”

“Yes. As soon as I return to the castle,” Haru says, removing his fingers and leaving a wet mark on his escort’s shoe. “I’m sure you know that I do not paint for just anyone.”

“I have certainly heard the rumors,” the guard says. “I did not know that they were true.”

Haru can tell by the guard’s broad stare and lighter pitch in voice that his plan has worked. He _will_ get what he wants. “So?” Haru playfully asks. "Would you care for a painting?”

The “nonthreatening” guard gazes at Haru as if he is a juicy, roasted pig. He licks his lips, hastily peering around the courtyard before turning back to Haru. “You will make haste?”

“Yes,” Haru says, feeling both triumphant, as well as a bit miserable for the male species. “I will take no time at all. I just have to retrieve my paints.”

The guard quickly stands, evidently having heard enough. “Very good, My Prince,” he says, bowing to Haru. “I will take another survey of the courtyard then return to the castle.” He runs off before Haru even has a chance to officially dismiss him.

“Thank you,” Haru whispers to his escort’s back. “For being insipidly predictable.”

At long last, Haru finally climbs out of the reservoir. He shivers as he stretches and picks up his drying cloth, rubbing it first through his hair then over his body.

Haru snickers faintly as he envisions the guard bouncing about in excitement, waiting for him to arrive. Of course, Haru has no intention on meeting his escort or painting anything for him – Haru never does. His art is something he only ever does for himself. However, telling his escorts as such is always the best way to get them to do what he wants.

It is a technique Haru has used for years, and one that almost always works since the nature of man never changes. Haru’s escorts will never dare question him after realizing that he does not intend on meeting up with them, and Haru also knows that the men are far too proud to tell each other that the prince’s flirtations were merely a rouse.

Naturally, using such a plan has built Haru a reputation with a lot of the guards and servants, but it is a consequence that he is willing to take.

After Haru feels adequately dry, he pulls on his smock and wraps the drying cloth around his waist. He takes a quick assessment of the courtyard before tugging off his swimming pants and slipping into his breeches. “See everyone?” Haru says aloud. “No escort or gentleman necessary.”

Haru sighs in satisfaction as he then steps into his boots. It feels good to dress himself and not wear so many layers. On days Haru is permitted to swim, he always dresses down to the bare essentials.

Haru folds his pants into the cloth and leaves it by the edge of the reservoir. It will not take long before Rei realizes that Haru has tricked his escort and comes looking for him. Haru hopes that the presentation of his effects will let Rei know that he is merely taking the long way back to the castle.

Haru takes a moment to gaze at the water before leaving. Already he misses it, wants to dive back in. “I’m sorry that we were interrupted,” Haru says, “but next time things will be different. I promise.”

Haru dips his fingers into the water, briefly playing with the ripples before walking away. He doesn’t take the direct path north toward the castle. Instead, he ventures left, down the courtyard and into the orchard.

It is a bright, hot day, but Haru welcomes the fiery breeze as it sweeps over his body and warms his skin. Leaves from the trees break off and float across the air. It’s a beautiful sight, and Haru would love to simply walk around the grounds until nightfall, but he has already fulfilled his one opportunity to enjoy himself today.

As Haru ventures further through the orchard, he nears the back of the stables that house the steeds of the kingdom’s court officials and superior castle workers.

Haru abruptly notices the change in smell and walks faster across the grass. However, he hears something as he reaches the end of the horsing quarters and stops. Haru takes a step closer so he can hear better. The sound is actually a voice – one that turns his stomach unsteady.

Haru ponders if he should move closer or simply keep walking. No matter how pleasant the jolt of excitement feels, it is unnerving to Haru that the voice alone can make him feel… _anything_. Haru has spent most of his life tuning voices out; this has to be the first time that he has ever wanted to hear more.

The need worries Haru for some reason, so he makes up his mind to keep walking. In spite of this, Haru soon realizes that regardless of what his mind has made up, he is, in fact, walking closer to the voice and heading toward the front of the stables.

Haru turns the corner, and his heart beats annoyingly hard as he sees Knight Makoto. He is a few paces away from Haru, sitting on a stool outside the stables next to a strapping black horse. The knight appears to be mending a saddle, and he is talking to his horse as if the words between them are divine.

Haru shifts the weight between his feet while he deduces the best path of action, unknowingly stepping on a stick in the process. The sound of the crack is mild, but it is unfortunately loud enough to alter the knight’s fine-tuned ears.

Knight Makoto looks up, seeming shocked by who’s disturbed him. He drops his saddle and shoots up from the stool, startling his horse and causing it to nicker.

“Prince Haruka,” Makoto says at once, pulling his sword out of its sheath that is leaning against the hay trough. “Do you require my service? Why are you alone?”

Haru is taken aback by the knight’s behavior. They’ve interacted a few times since Makoto was knighted, but this is the first time Makoto has ever addressed Haru as his servant. It’s proper. It’s correct. But for some reason it does not feel right to Haru.

“I am well,” Haru calmly says, deciding to close the gap between them. He walks over to the knight, deeper into the barn, and Haru wrinkles his nose and sniffles as he adjusts to the pungent odor of animal and droppings. “I just dismissed my escort. You should stand down.”

The knight gasps, shaking his head. His ears flush red. “Of course! My apologizes, Prince Haruka. I did not mean to offend or imply that-”

“ – Makoto,” Haru says, raising his hand. Makoto immediately closes his mouth, and the blush on his ears expands to his cheeks. Haru too feels a bit warmer. It was by the knight’s suggestion that Haru call him only by his first name, but every time Haru does, Makoto acts…strangely.

It’s silly, in truth, and Haru really should go back to being more formal, but he honestly doesn’t want to. As with his voice, Makoto’s name just makes Haru _feel_ , and it is an awareness that Haru is not sure how to handle. He is accustomed to people reacting to him, but rarely does anyone force Haru out of numbing stupor he is often in throughout the day.

Haru looks away for a moment to compose himself and to break up the tension between them. “I am not criticizing you,” Haru says, turning back to Makoto. “I am merely saying that you can be at ease. Everything is all right.”

Makoto somewhat eases, placing his sword back into the sheath. “I am glad to hear this,” he says, giving Haru a short bow.

“I do applaud your haste,” Haru offers as compliment, sensing a need to lift the knight’s spirits. He does not know Makoto well, but somehow Haru can tell that the man is far too hard on himself.

Haru’s theory is proven correct when Makoto cringes. “My word, thank you, Prince Haruka, but I do not deserve your compliments.”

“I shall give my compliments to you, regardless,” Haru says.

Makoto gazes at Haru curiously, as if searching for proof that he is not in trouble. It should offend Haru that this knight is looking at him like this, but the prince isn’t bothered. What’s more, Makoto’s eyes are even greener in the sunlight; Haru does not see the point in looking away from such a color if he doesn’t have to.

Makoto must find what he wants in Haru’s stare because he soon relaxes. He gives Haru a handsome smile. “Well, you are very kind, Prince Haruka. Are you traveling?”

“Returning to the castle, from the reservoir,” Haru explains.

“Of course,” Makoto says, nodding. “That explains everything.”

Haru raises an eyebrow. He is unsure as to what the knight is talking about – which annoys him greatly. “Pardon?” Haru asks. “What has been explained, exactly?”

“O-oh, it’s nothing.” Makoto rubs his neck, shaking his head. Haru waits for an answer while Makoto continues to squirm. Only moments ago, the knight was ready to attack with his sword, but now he is acting adorably coy. It’s so peculiar to Haru, but it is a type of oddness that he enjoys very much. Makoto may be strange, but he is not boring.

The knight finally settles when he realizes that Haru has no intention on letting this go. He grins, shyly. “If I may say, Prince Haruka?”

“Indeed, you may,” Haru says.

“Well, I was worried when I first looked up because...” Makoto trails off, chuckling nervously. “Because I have never seen you in such a state.”

Haru feels heat stain his cheeks as he suddenly remembers his appearance. He isn’t wearing anything that resembles royalty or brands him as a Nanase. His skin is not moisturized, and his hair is in its more natural state – thick and somewhat wavy.

For anyone who does not know Haru, they would view him presently as a commoner. His mother and father – Rei even – would most likely faint if they saw him outside like this, especially talking to a knight.

Haru lets the realization turn his brief moment of silly embarrassment into confidence. “Does my state trouble you, Makoto?”

Makoto’s eyes widen, and he dips his head. “Not at all, Prince Haruka. My apologizes. I meant that as a compliment.” He lifts his head. “If I may be so bold again, I believe this look perfectly suits you. You might even pass as a citizen of the city.”

Haru unexpectedly laughs. His heart skips a beat at Makoto’s ability to somehow read his mind. Haru is also relieved – as little as he will admit it – that he looking average doesn’t bother Makoto.

“My thanks,” Haru says, and he resists the urge to return the compliment.

The knight is stripped of his robes, armor, and chainmail, wearing no more than breeches, a smock, and a brown tunic. His firm, strong arms are mostly exposed, and the broadness of his shoulders is right on display. Haru can even see Makoto’s defined collarbone – a bit of his chest.

If Haru had to be completely honest with himself, then he would say that Makoto is the most enticing thing he has seen all day – maybe even more so than Haru’s first glance at the reservoir this morning.

“However,” Makoto adds, breaking Haru out of his inappropriate thoughts. “I am sure there is one accessory that you did not intend.” He holds up his hand, gesturing it toward Haru’s hair. “May I, My Prince?”

Haru blinks. He has no idea what Makoto is implying, and he is not sure why he isn’t demanding to know at once. All Haru can do is nod. Makoto smiles, almost timidly, and reaches out to Haru’s hair. Haru tenses as Makoto’s hand passes his ear, plucking something out of the strands behind it.

“There we are,” Makoto whispers in a quivering voice, holding a small green leaf. “I noticed this right away.”

Haru lets out the breath that he did not know he’d been holding, and his ear tingles even though it hadn’t been touched. “Because you like green?” Haru finds himself asking.

Makoto appears surprised by the question. “A-actually, I was going to say because it boldly sticks out in your dark hair, but perhaps. I do like green. How did you know?”

“I’m observant,” Haru says, far too quietly.

“Oh?” Makoto says, grinning a little. “I will have to remember this about Prince Haruka…”

They stare at each other, the knight carefully holding the leaf between them as if it is a secret of some kind. Haru finds it silly, really. It truly is unnecessary and feels stupidly pleasant.

“I heard you talking,” Haru says, all of a sudden, and his comment seems to pull the knight out of whatever daze he had fallen into. “That’s why I came back here.”

Makoto laughs and finally looks away – Haru welcomes the brief moment of relief. “Did you?” he asks. “How disastrous. I thought I was being quiet.”

“What were you saying?” Haru asks.

Makoto shrugs. “I would hate to bore you with my stories.”

“I will decide if it is a bore or not, Knight Makoto,” Haru says. “I am the prince.”

Makoto’s face turns a darker shade of red. “Yes, you are,” he says, placing the leaf into the pocket of his breeches. He takes a glance at his steed. “As a gentlemen, let me first introduce you.”

Makoto takes a step over to his horse. He pats its back, grinning lovingly at it. “Prince Haruka, this is my stallion, Orca.”

Haru’s breath catches in his throat, and the whole of his stomach flips over. “Orca?” he asks, trying his best to keep his tone level. “Like the whale? From the ocean?”

Makoto casually giggles, obviously not understanding the seriousness of the moment. “Yes, I know it seems ridiculous, but there is a reason behind the name.” Makoto gently rubs the side of his horse’s head. “I will feed you soon, don’t worry,” he soothes, as if compassion just comes naturally to him, no matter what it’s toward.

“Orca is completely black, except for in one place,” Makoto explains, spreading a part the horse’s mane at the top of its forehead. Makoto’s other hand pats Orca’s shoulder, most likely to keep him calm.

Haru marvels at how precise, yet tender Makoto is with his steed. Most knights seem to view their stallions as prizes, but Makoto treats his almost as a family member. Haru briefly wonders if the knight has any children, possessing such a nurturing temperament.

“Right here,” Makoto continues in saying. He exposes the hair underneath Orca’s mane. No bigger than a large pebble lies a singular patch of white hair with a jagged streak of black across it.

Haru turns his head to the side to gain a different perspective. At the right angle, he can _mostly_ understand how the shape and colors suggest a whale. Then again, it truly does not matter. The very fact that the knight’s instinct was something aquatic is spectacular enough for Haru.

“You think I’m insane,” Makoto says.

“I do not,” Haru promptly says, still studying Orca’s beauty mark.

“Your smile suggests otherwise, Prince Haruka.”

Haru tightens his lips, feeling annoyed that he had been unaware of himself. “Your assumptions are incorrect,” Haru says, lifting his chin. “Although, if I _had_ been smiling, I am sure it is because of your stallion’s name. I enjoy the ocean and its inhabitants. The name is refreshing.”

Makoto beams in pure sincerity, making the corners of his eyes wrinkle. Rei would probably call the expression undignified, but Haru finds it charming. “You are the only person who thinks such a thing, Prince Haruka.”

“I do not believe it matters, what others think,” Haru says. “Orca is a magnificent stallion. Have you been able to find time to swim since being knighthed?”

The humor and ease in Makoto’s expression disappears. He turns his attention to Orca, patting its head again. “I’m sorry if I mislead you, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says in a deep, serious tone. “I know how much you adore swimming and the water, but I am afraid that I cannot even swim. I prefer to view water from afar.”

“Oh,” Haru breathes, completely caught off guard by Makoto’s change in manner.

“I am sorry for misspeaking,” Makoto says.

Haru holds up his hand, wanting desperately for the knight to stop apologizing, especially in such a voice. “No apology necessary,” Haru says, and he can’t help but feel a little disappointed. “I am the one who misspoke. I assumed from your horse’s name that you were a swimmer.”

Makoto keeps his gaze on Orca. “I understand. I tried swimming as a child but never quite mastered it. I think it’s why I wanted to start riding horses so early – land animals.”

“I see…” Haru trails off, feeling no more clarified. Makoto’s answers are unexpectedly vague, and it makes him mysterious in a way that Haru had not anticipated from a man like Makoto.

Tension builds between them again, and Orca softly nickers as if it is too much for him as well.

Makoto clears his throat, licking his lips. “Would you like to sit down?” he asks, gesturing to the stool. “I feel foolish for not offering sooner.” Haru looks at the stool that is in front of the stables, right near the heart of the odor. “The smell is already in your clothes, Prince Haruka, if that helps with your decision making.”

Haru looks up, eyes wide. Makoto is grinning at him, seeming pleased at being able to read Haru’s mind so clearly – _again_.

“It does help – thank you,” Haru mutters, sitting on the stool. He shifts in place and sniffles, electing to keep his hands in his lap. He can smell the horses, the hay, and the droppings. Haru elegantly rubs under his nose. He will take marine life any day over this.

Makoto flops to the ground in front of Haru as if the hay and manure does not bother him. He picks up his saddle, hunching over like he has never had a lesson in proper etiquette. “Do you mind if I work while we converse?”

Haru feels a bit anxious by their casual arrangement, but he cannot deny that it feels exciting, too. “No, please continue,” he says, sitting up straighter. “What are you doing, exactly?”

“Restoration and polishing,” Makoto says. “Standard maintenance.”

“It is your day of rest,” Haru says with a raised eyebrow. “You have horsemen at your disposal. There are people who will tend to your equipment and to your house, if you so chose.”

Makoto frowns, appearing confused. “I would never ask someone else to tend to my horse or any of my supplies, Prince Haruka.” He smiles at his saddle and then at his horse. “I’m a knight. Orca is my steed. He is my partner – an extension of myself. It’s my responsibility to take care of him and everything I use with him.”

Haru feels a sigh at his lips, but he holds it back. Makoto takes his responsibility with pride, wearing it like armor. His candor and passion seems so genuine, and it moves Haru. Moves him in a way that he normally does not budge for people.

“You are absolutely right,” Haru says, grinning despite himself. “Are you proficient in what you are doing?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Makoto says, scratching his head. “My father would have a fit of laughter if he saw me. He’s the one with mending hands.”

“Did he buy Orca for you?” Haru asks. He inwardly cringes at how annoying he must sound – pestilent like Kisumi. However, he can’t seem to help himself. Haru finds the silly, peculiar knight fascinating, and it’s nice to talk about someone else for a change.

Haru walks into every relationship with the other person already knowing everything about him. For once Haru wants to get to know someone else – or at least Tachibana Makoto.

“My father?” Makoto asks. “No, definitely not. It may not seem so to a prince, but stallions are very expensive. I would never allow him to buy something so grand for me.”

Haru is unsure of what to say. Sometimes the exchanging of goods is the only way in which the prince interacts with his father. “Then are you some kind of bandit?”

Makoto laughs. “Afraid not.” He looks down at the saddle, fiddling with the straps. “I was, um. I was given the money for Orca when I was sixteen, by someone from my village. A man I was close to.”

Haru holds up his hand. “Say no more.”

“It’s all right,” Makoto says, softly. “He was a good man. I don’t mind talking about him. He died when I was thirteen, and on my sixteenth birthday my parents gave me his letter and the money.”

Makoto gets up, walking over to Orca. He feeds Orca hay from the trough and scratches Orca’s neck. “I grew up with his son,” Makoto adds, almost as an afterthought. “We were once great friends.”

“Did he also pass away?” Haru asks.

Makoto snorts, surprisingly. “In some ways, yes.” Haru tilts his head to the side, and Makoto clears his throat again, blushing. “No matter – enough about my stallion. Tell me about your horse.”

“I don’t have a particular horse of my own,” Haru says.

“Absolutely, you probably sample quite a few breeds,” Makoto suggests, feeding Orca more hay. “Which is your favorite to ride?”

“I do not ride,” Haru says in a slightly irritated voice, looking away. “That’s what I am trying to tell you. I…I only know the very basics. Riding is not something I was required to learn as a boy, and it’s not as if I would ever be able to just go riding on my own – even if I wanted to.”

Haru stops babbling, trying his best not to sulk. Makoto looks at him quite perplexed, and for the first time since Haru arrived, he wants to leave. It is a sensitive matter that people know not to discuss, Haru’s _slight_ delay in horse riding.

Makoto bows. “I do not mean to offend, Prince Haruka.”

“You may rise,” Haru mutters.

Makoto keeps his gaze on Haru, and for the life of him, Haru cannot look away. “May I ask you something, Prince Haruka?”

“Perhaps.”

“Have you ever groomed a horse before?” Makoto asks. Haru crosses his arms over his chest, not answering. Makoto nods as if understanding, taking a brush from the trough. “Would you like to?”

It is only a question, and one that has a very simple answer. In spite of this, Haru finds it difficult to come up with a response. “I’m…not sure,” he says, in complete honesty.

“Orca is very mild,” Makoto assures. “He already likes you, and you may find it soothing.”

“Soothing?” Haru questions. “Brushing the hair of an animal in a stable that smells like manure?”

Makoto throws his head back as he laughs. “It is not as bad as it may seem, My Prince.”

Makoto offers the brush to Haru, and Haru instantly realizes that he has to accept Makoto’s challenge. It’s embarrassing enough to confess that he cannot ride. Haru does not plan to let the knight think any lesser of him.

Hare walks over, taking the brush from Makoto. He turns to the horse, but he can’t admit that he doesn’t know where to start or how to brush. It’s annoying – completely unbecoming. Obviously grooming a horse is a simple task, but the last thing Haru wants to do is look foolish in front of Makoto, or upset the horse he loves so dearly.

Haru slowly turns to Makoto, wanting to test if his look alone will be enough. Makoto kindly smiles. “I will demonstrate for you, Prince Haruka,” he says, taking the brush from Haru.

Haru lets out a quiet sigh of relief, and he wonders how long this will last – Makoto being inside of his head. “Thank you, Makoto.”

Makoto’s eyelids droop a little. “It is my honor, Prince Haruka.” He begins brushing the black hair of Orca’s neck, causing its ears to sag. “The important thing is to brush evenly and with long strokes, like this.” The horse nickers at Makoto’s grooming, cocking its feet. “I know it feels good, beautiful,” Makoto whispers to Orca.

Haru’s stomach knots in a way that it hasn’t for years; he decides to distract himself by paying attention to Makoto’s movements. He grooms the horse smoothly but with a clear path. Makoto’s large hand seems to just glide over his stallion, and Haru is content with just watching him.

“Are you ready to try?” Makoto asks, after a bit of time has gone by.

“Yes, I would like to try,” Haru says, feeling mesmerized. Makoto hands Haru the brush again, and Haru carefully places it on Orca’s shoulder, brushing down in a gentle line. Orca nickers. “Is this correct?”

“Perfect, My Prince,” Makoto says. “Orca approves.”

Haru feels silly for being proud of such a minimal achievement. “The smell is the worst part, I suppose,” he says, in an attempt to seem indifferent.

“Don’t be afraid to move around and really use the bristles,” Makoto says, patting Orca’s back. “He’s strong. He can take it.”

Haru accepts Makoto’s advice, although he is in no rush. Makoto is standing so close to him, and even though the proximity isn’t new, being close to the knight while they are both casually dressed is novel. Haru feels as though they are both a little more exposed. A bit... _freer_.

“I have to say, Prince Haruka, I did not expect to aid you in grooming my stallion when I woke up this morning,” Makoto says.

Haru smirks, deciding to move around the horse to brush him, but he will not admit that this is particularly enjoyable – at least not yet. “And I did not expect to groom a knight’s stallion when I woke up this morning.”

“I am sorry for interrupting your travels,” Makoto says, seeming upset.

Haru looks at Makoto incredulously. The most annoying thing about the knight thus far is his idiotic need to apologize for doing absolutely nothing wrong. “You did not interrupt my travels. I came here, remember?” Haru scoffs in annoyance, brushing Orca’s back. “If anything, you helped me. I am not eager to return to the castle.”

Makoto walks over and stands next to Haru. “Is that why you relieved your escort?” he asks. “One of the very first rules I learned here is that Prince Haruka goes nowhere outside without a guard.”

Haru stops brushing. “Yes, well, as you know I do not follow all of the rules. It is my time to do as I please.”

“I will not criticize you, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, shaking his head. “I will say, however, that if I had been your escort, I wouldn’t have left your side.”

Haru blushes, completely believing Makoto, and shifts down from him. “You would have made much better company, I’m sure,” he says, pretending to be engrossed in brushing Orca’s mane. “I very much doubt that I would have tried to get rid of you.”

Makoto blushes as well, rubbing his cheek. “I’m afraid that I only have so many mundane stories to share with you, Prince Haruka. Most of my brothers in arms have elected to visit the city today.”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting solitude,” Haru says.

“Yes, it is nice,” Makoto replies. “However, I am still getting used to it.”

Haru frowns at the concept. “You have to get used to being alone?”

“Strange, I know, coming from someone like me,” Makoto says. “But I am more familiar with being around people and noise.”

“It is awful,” Haru says, sympathetically.

“I actually enjoy it.” Makoto smiles wide, chuckling as if he sees something humorous in front of him. “I have two younger siblings. They’re twins – Ren and Ran. They always keep the house busy and noisy.”

“You are an older brother,” Haru says, fitting the pieces together. Makoto’s patience and nurturing manner now make sense to Haru.

“Yes. A very proud older brother,” Makoto says, standing tall for the first time today. “They mean everything to me, even though they are the main cause for my unfamiliarity with quietness. Well, my siblings and my cousin, Nagisa.”

“The potter,” Haru says.

Makoto’s eyes widen. “You remember?”

“Certainly…” Haru says, figuring that the knight is having another one of his silly moments. “It was not that long ago that you told me about him. I may perhaps be a slight novice with horses, but my memory is immaculate.”

“Most undoubtedly, Prince Haruka!” Makoto rushes out, giving him a fast bow. “I am merely astounded that you would take the effort to remember anything about me.”

Haru offers the brush to Makoto, finding the gesture more polite than rolling his eyes. Haru has not yet decided how he feels about the knight’s humility– if he finds it more endearing or exasperating. “I only retain information that I find useful or interesting.”

Makoto takes the brush back, holding it to his chest. “What category do I fall into, Prince Haruka?”

Haru smirks. “So far? Both.”

Makoto exhales deeply – happily. “This is most relieving news.” He takes a glimpse at the trough. “You have done a great job grooming Orca. Would you like to feed him? It’s about time for his apple.”

“This I can do without assistance,” Haru confidently says. He looks into the trough and takes out an apple. He places it flat on his palm, holding it under Orca’s mouth.

“Come on, Orca,” Makoto encourages, patting its neck. The horse cocks its legs again and nickers, taking the apples into its mouth.

“Excellent work, Prince Haruka!” Makoto says excitedly.

Haru examines the warm, thick slobber left on his palm. He regrettably wipes it on his breeches, still preferring sea life. “Rei – my gentlemen,” Haru says, “assisted his father in feeding the horses as a boy. I always made him let me help.”

“Ryugazaki seems like a great man,” Makoto says.

“You don’t find him exhausting?” Haru asks. “A lot of people do.”

“Not in the slightest,” Makoto says, and once again Haru truly believes him. “I am surprised that he is not out here searching for you.”

“I’m sure he will soon,” Haru says, looking around.

“Then you probably shouldn’t be here when he arrives,” Makoto suggests, growing more serious.

“Why not?” Haru asks, although he already knows the answer.

Makoto shrugs, actually taking a step back from Haru. “This is inappropriate, is it not? Me being out here with you like this? Me asking you to help groom and feed my horse? It’s not proper protocol.”

A rush of anger passes through Haru, and he tells himself that it is all he feels – not disappointed in any way. “According to the king and queen, correct?” Haru asks.

Makoto nods. “Well, yes.”

“And what about my opinion?” Haru questions. “Do you think it should count for something?”

Makoto opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water for several seconds. “O-of course, Prince Haruka. Your opinions matter greatly.”

“Then know that I am enjoying my time here,” Haru says, beating down his nerves.

The knight’s tension visually eases. “I am glad that you are enjoying your time, Prince Haruka.” Makoto shyly peers down at his boots for a moment. “I am as well.” He pats Orca’s neck. “You know, if you would ever like to advance your riding training, I would be more than happy to teach you.”

Haru has to look away from the knight; he does not trust his face to stay expressionless. “Wouldn’t that be against protocol, too?”

“Being a knight classifies me as a professional rider,” Makoto explains, sounding proud. “I can properly instruct you.”

Haru does his best to appear calm while also feeling the annoyingly pleasant race of his heart again. “This is something that I will have to remember about Knight Makoto.”

Makoto grins, dipping his head. “I sincerely hope that you do.”

Haru smirks, moving hair out of his eyes. The instant his palm passes over his nose, he drops his hand. “Pardon, do you have a place where I can wet my hands? They smell of horse.”

Makoto giggles like a child. “Yes, My Prince, right on the other side of that wall,” he says, gesturing inside the stables.

Haru groans inwardly at the idea of going deeper into the stench, but he has to get the filth off his hands. He goes inside, seeing a bucket of water on a table by the entrance. Haru studies and whiffs the water, telling himself that Makoto wouldn’t let him stick his hands into anything dangerous.

Haru slowly dips his hands into the bucket, sighing when it just feels like water. He looks through the window of the wall and out at Makoto. He’s petting Orca, talking to it again.

“I think he likes you, Orca,” Makoto says, not so quietly, to his steed. “A real prince likes you.”

Haru indecently bites the side of his lip, sighing. If he had to paint anything for anyone, then Haru would capture this moment for Makoto – he talking lovingly to his stallion, both glowing so gorgeously under the bright sun.

Haru does not know why the feeling comes over him so powerfully. All he understands is that a moment like this won’t happen again – one where Haru feels as if he is viewing art in motion.

“Tachibana!” someone calls.

Haru doesn’t recognize the voice, so he stays inside the stables. He watches as Makoto gasps, quickly turning around. “Constable Fukui,” Makoto says, sounding a lot older. “What can I do you for?” The constable walks up to Makoto, and even though Makoto is taller, he wilts into himself.

“You can start by telling me why you have spent so much time out here!” the constable shouts. “Especially when you have an entire armory to sort.” Haru squints, vaguely recalling the man berating Makoto.

Makoto bows at once. “I sorted the armory last evening, Constable.”

“And you did an appalling job that must be corrected,” the constable says, stepping even closer to Makoto, who does not stand his ground. “Or do you not understand basic terminology along with the concept of arranging swords?”

Haru clutches the rim of the bucket, feeling a strong urge to throw it. It seems wrong, abusive – _illegal_ , talking such a way to a person like Makoto.

Makoto’s brow furrows, but somehow Haru knows that it’s more in shame than anger. “My apologizes, Constable,” Makoto says, bowing again. “I did not know that I had preformed poorly.”

“It is not something that should have to be written out for you, Tachibana. Or can you even read?” the constable asks with a laugh. “You may be a novice – a commoner no less – but you are still supposed to be a professional. If you cannot handle a simple task such as this, then you will never serve as a proper knight.”

“That is enough!” Haru declares, stepping out of the stables. Both Makoto and the constable turn and face Haru, but Haru purely has eyes for the constable.

“Prince Haruka,” the constable says.

“Silence,” Haru demands, holding up his hand. “Now I will hear no more of this. You reprimanding one of your own is one matter – but suggesting that Tachibana is not fit as a knight implies that my father – _your_ king – made a mistake in knighting him. Am I correct?”

“No, of course not, My Prince,” the constable says, bowing. “I did not mean for you to hear that.”

“However, I did,” Haru says, placing his hands on his hips. “And I must say, for your sake, that I hope this is the first and last time that you ever utter such words to this knight or to any person for that matter. You are in no position to pass judgment on the employees of this kingdom – not without a Nanase seal on your robes. Do I make myself clear?”

The constable bows again, lower this time. “Yes, My Prince. I understand.”

“Excellent. Then both you and I will return to the castle to allow this man a few more minutes of his day.” Haru points to Makoto. “I interrupted his morning of rest because I needed his assistance, and I think the honorable thing to do would be to give Tachibana what is owed to him.”

Haru whips his head to Makoto, who’s gaping at him. “A few more minutes before you return to the armory?”

Makoto remains silent and still for a moment but eventually nods, looking between Haru and the constable. “I-I just need to situate my stallion back into the stables.”

“Very well, Tachibana,” the constable quickly says, doing a horrible job at appearing sincere. “At your earliest convenience, return to the armory.”

“Now that this is sorted, leave us, Constable. Wait over there.” Haru motions into the orchard.

“Very good, My Prince.” The constable bows, and Haru will not deny that it feels good to see him grovel. The constable says nothing else as he walks away.

Haru moves hair out of his face, exhaling in irritation.

“Y-you…you did not have to do that,” Makoto gently says. “He is my superior.”

Haru scoffs, pointing out his chin. “He was disrespectful. He should not talk to you in such a way, and you shouldn’t let him.” Makoto say nothing, merely looks down at his boots. Haru does not know the knight well, but his emotions are easy to read – easy to feel.

The casual pleasantness between them is no more. Haru is a prince once again, and Makoto is an employee of the kingdom.

“Not everyone has the freedom to do or say as he pleases, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, finally looking up.

Haru swallows something hard and sharp in his throat. “This is one story that I do not need to hear from you,” he says. He peers out into the orchard. “I should go. I apologize if my behavior gets you into further trouble with the constable.”

“Do not worry about me, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, shaking his head. He bows to Haru. “It was a great joy spending this time with you.”

“Likewise,” Haru says. He gradually reaches out, patting Orca on the side of his head and causing him to nicker. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” Haru reluctantly takes a few steps backwards. “Till next time,” he says, more awkwardly than he was hoping for.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, giving him a small smile. Haru nods and turns around. He takes his time catching up to the constable, and they both silently walk back toward the castle.

Haru moves hair out of his face, and he feels a leaf that has somehow landed in his hair. Haru pulls it out, finding himself smiling as he looks at the small piece of green.

Haru closes his fist over the leaf, knowing that he is going to spend the rest of the day thinking about the knight and his stallion called Orca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. These two boys are so cute that it makes my stomach hurt...  
> And, yes, I know, it's been a long time since I've updated this. My apologies. If you're still sticking around, I thank and applaud you!!


	4. Morning's Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I...I had to see you again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! I know it's been far too long!!! I dearly apologize!!! The good news is that I am free from my job that always kept me so busy and away from fanfic writing, so now I am free to update this story regularly!!! And, as a token of my gratitude for those who have stuck around, I'm posting chaps 4&5 at the same time! Thank you for your patience omg....

“Why wasn’t my father at breakfast?” Prince Haruka asks as he enters his chambers.

“He is in congress with the constable,” Rei answers, trailing right at Haru’s heels. “There has been elevated rebel activity in our district, though I am told it’s nothing significant.”

Rei pulls out the chair at Haru’s vanity desk for him before looking through his parchment book. “The clothier will be here later this afternoon to get a fitting for your costume.”

“I will be busy painting,” Haru says, sitting down. He opens a jar of skin ointment and applies the expensive cream to his face and neck while Rei holds a small, brass-plated mirror out in front of him.

“My main motivation for going to the market today is to replenish my materials,” Haru continues in saying. “You know this.”

“The earliest your supplies can arrive will be this evening,” Rei patiently explains. “Your fitting will not take long, and this is important.”

“It is not important, only tradition,” Haru says.

Rei closes the mirror, forcing Haru to look up at him. “You love masquerade balls just as much as Prince Kisumi,” Rei proclaims with a raised eyebrow. “In fact, I remember just a few years ago you had a lovely time with him – in matching disguises, no less.”

Haru looks away, pointing out his chin. “You certainly are a nuisance today.”

Haru walks over to his bed, picking up his simplest Nanase robes that he will wear to the market. They’re black and plain – enough to stand out as posh, but not enough to automatically expose Haru as royalty. Rei promptly sets down his book and skips over to Haru, taking the robes from him.

“That was _his_ idea, by the way,” Haru irritably mumbles as he faces away from Rei, allowing him to drape the robes over Haru’s shoulders.

“Yes, as you always tell me,” Rei says, turning Haru around so he can fasten the draw rope across Haru’s neck. From this position, Haru notices that there is a small crack in one of Rei’s lenses, and that lines of labor are already beginning to settle into Rei’s face, despite the fact that he is indeed younger than Haru.

At a distance, Rei has all the poise, intellect, and attractiveness of someone wealthy; he even gets mistaken as Haru’s kinsman on occasion. However, with a closer look it becomes obvious that Rei is a man who has to work way too hard, far too often.

Haru’s heart squeezes in his chest, and as always, he senses words that he wants to say to his gentleman, but Haru simply cannot unearth them.

“You could take a moment of leisure,” Haru finds himself saying. “You have the entire morning to do such a thing.”

“No, thank you,” Rei politely declines, finishing the tie of Haru’s robes.

“Why not?” Haru asks. “I can make it an order that everyone allows you space while I’m away.”

Rei takes a step back, cupping his chin and inspecting Haru’s appearance. “I very much appreciate the offer,” Rei says, “but we both know leisure does not agree with me.”

Haru merely continues looking at Rei, knowing that he has to say something. “Will you at least inquire about your spectacles? That crack must be difficult on your vision.”

In haste, Rei covers the side of his face that holds the broken lens and begins smoothing down Haru’s robes. “I apologize,” Rei says. “It happened this morning. I know it tarnishes my aesthetic.”

Haru rolls his eyes. “It will also tarnish your eyes if you do not allow yourself a moment to handle it.”

Rei gives Haru a thin smile. “I suppose there is logic in your statement.” Rei takes a step back again, nodding as if pleased with what he sees. “Plain but beautiful.”

Haru nods courteously in thanks. “What is the schedule?”

“I will fetch Sir Eito, and he will escort you into the city,” Rei says, picking up his parchment book. “I will retrieve you once the carriage is ready.” Rei bows to Haru before leaving the chambers.

Haru sits again at his desk, picking up his hairbrush. He closes his eyes, and as the bristles glide through his strands, Haru’s mind slips from him. He finds himself thinking – once again – about horse grooming.

A wave of relaxation flows through Haru’s body as deep, familiar giggles flood his head. Haru lets out a sigh. While he does enjoy taking care of himself, never has brushing his hair ever felt so… _pleasant_. For days now Haru has somehow found a state of meditation whilst grooming, but the prince elects not to question why.

****

Time passes, and Haru grows increasingly impatient with Rei, who still has not yet retrieved him.

Haru shoots to a stand, looking over at his canvass where empty oil vials and paint bottles are scattered about the floor underneath it. The scene makes his heart feel heavy, and Haru loses his fortitude.

He storms out of his chambers, heading downstairs to find Rei or Sir Eito or _anyone_ who can possibly tell him what in fact is taking so long.

Haru eventually locates Rei at the main entrance of the castle, flipping madly through his parchment book. Haru burns a trail right up to him. “Why am I being delayed?” Haru asks at once.

“My Prince!” Rei says, putting a hand to his chest. “I was just coming to retrieve you.”

“Why only now?” Haru questions. He does not wait for an answer as he walks past Rei, heading out of the castle. Haru shields his eyes with his hand as he steps onto the patio and into the bright morning sun, Rei scurrying to his side.

Haru sees soldiers, servants, and various staff members walking the grounds and traveling about the stone path that leads away from the castle, but not a single one of them seems to have the prince as their destination.

“Where is my carriage?” Haru demands.

“On the way,” Rei breathes, dabbing his forehead with his personal cloth. “It came to light that Sir Eito is also in congress with your father. The pronouncement was only made this morning.”

“I am going to the market today,” Haru says in a raised voice. “I am going to the market _right_ _now_.”

“Yes, you are certainly, My Prince!” Rei assures, holding out a hand. “I have already arranged a replacement. Fortunately, he was in-house and not in congress.”

“Who?” Haru asks.

Rei opens his mouth but stops as the clomping of horse feet interrupts him. Haru looks up the stone path, and he audibly gasps as Sir Makoto rides down on Orca, pulling a carriage.

Haru bites his tongue in order to stop himself from asking Rei if this is some kind of joke or dream – possibly both.

Makoto pulls on the reins, stopping Orca. He scratches its neck and whispers something in its ear before swinging his legs over the horse and hopping down. Makoto jogs over to Haru and Rei; his mail shirt gleams in the sunlight, and his green cloak flows behind him, as if Makoto is some kind of heavenly being.

“My dearest apologies,” Makoto says out of breath, bowing instantly. “I did not have much time to get my steed adjusted to the carriage lift.”

“You’re quite all right,” Haru says at once, somewhat faintly.

Makoto lifts his head, looking as startled as Haru feels. “Good morning, Prince Haruka.”

A shrill noise wants to escape Haru’s throat, but he keeps it contained. “Good morning, Makoto,” Haru politely says. Makoto’s cheeks turn pink, and he smiles.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Rei asks, rather loudly.

Both Haru and Makoto turn to him. “My pardon?” Makoto asks, sounding distracted.

“Your steed – will it make the journey?” Rei questions. “I realize this is short notice.”

Makoto’s eyes widen as if he had not expected to be asked such a question. “N-no – I mean, _yes_ , my steed will make the journey. He can adapt to anything – better than most people.”

Makoto gestures back toward Orca, nodding like a buffoon. “He could teach humans how to behave, really,” he adds. “I-if horses could talk and teach, of course…” Makoto laughs nervously, rubbing the side of his face and not making eye contact with either Haru or Rei.

Rei merely blinks at Makoto, and Haru is torn between wanting to walk away from the embarrassment, and wanting to stuff Makoto’s mouth with rocks so he cannot spout any more nonsense.

The three of them stand in awkward silence until Rei civilly clears his throat. “Splendid,” he says, reaching inside his vest. Rei pulls out a stack of parchment, each stamped with the Nanase Raven, and gives them to Makoto. “These are Prince Haruka’s tickets. Make sure the vendors fill in the order, and upon return promptly deliver them to the marshal.”

“Yes, right away,” Makoto answers in a suspiciously deep voice, obviously wanting to redeem himself. “And may I just say, Gentleman Ryugazaki, that I have already memorized every line of protocol and will keep the prince safely in my sights at all times.”

Makoto bows again, in front of Rei this time. “As escort, my only care if for Prince Haruka.”

Haru’s face feels horribly burned, and while his stomach seems to twist in delight, a large part of him wants to kick Makoto in the face for being so excruciatingly embarrassing again. Haru understands wanting redemption, but saying such… _things_ is over the top – especially when other people are around to witness.

Rei seems taken aback by Makoto’s behavior, and Haru feels a little better knowing that he is not the only one Makoto can surprise.

“Good word, Sir Makoto,” Rei eventually says. “My Prince, enjoy your travels.” Rei bows to Haru then slowly walks back into the castle, peeking behind him every few steps.

“Well, that was mortifying, yes?” Makoto says, scratching the back of his head.

“Quite,” Haru answers.

Makoto grins and just continues looking at Haru; Haru stares right back, saying nothing.

Haru is not sure what should happen now that they are alone. A few days have past since their afternoon in the stables, and Haru did not expect to meet Makoto again so soon – particularly not for a morning outside of the castle together.

Makoto looks away first, laughing nervously again. “I suppose our next time came sooner than expected. I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience, Prince Haruka.”

“It’s not,” Haru says, finding his voice. “It’s. It is fine.”

“I’m relieved,” Makoto says, both sounding and looking completely sincere. Makoto rocks on the heels of his feet. “Are you ready to go, My Prince?”

Haru’s stomach twists again, but this time with a mixture of emotion. Haru doesn’t know what is the matter with him. It honestly was not that long ago that Haru was with Makoto. Haru’s body has no reason to react like this – to feel excited and relieved and _nervous_.

“Prince Haruka? Are you all right?” Makoto asks, seeming concerned.

Haru’s heart skips a beat, and for a moment he desperately wants to order Rei to come along, but Haru quickly realizes that is a stupid and unnecessary desire. He _himself_ is still acting so stupidly…

“I’m all right,” Haru says, more to himself than to Makoto. He holds his head high and walks up to the carriage.

“My Prince,” Makoto says, opening the door for him.

Haru nods, gracefully entering the carriage. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says with a handsome smile before closing the door.

As Makoto walks to the front and gets back on his horse, Haru closes his eyes and covers his face, breathing hard and fast. He gives himself a moment to beat down the nerves and accept the radical change to his day.

The carriage starts to move, and Haru pushes his hands flat into the seat cushion. “Stay still,” Haru whispers aloud to himself. “Stay calm. You are a prince.”

Haru takes in air through his nose and expels it from his mouth, counting in sets of three like he does during yoga. Following a few breaths, Haru finally finds his resolve. He lets go of the cushion and sits back.

Haru tells himself that if nothing else, spending an entire day in the city with Makoto should hopefully put an end to the annoying – almost debilitating – way his mind and body react every time he sees the knight.

Haru peers out the window and into the bright morning, deciding to focus instead on his venture to the marketplace, which is _supposed_ to be the most important detail of the day. Haru will buy his paints, wander amongst the crowd, and do whatever else he likes – just as it always happens.

A change in escort cannot possibly change the whole experience.

****

When the carriage finally stops Haru sits up, sweeping hair out of his face. He can hear the boom of the marketplace even from his current position.

The carriage door soon opens, and the first thing Haru sees is Makoto’s offered hand.

“We have arrived, My Prince,” Makoto says. His hair is a bit wilted; his skin is damp – undoubtedly boiling underneath the chain shirt – but Makoto’s bold green eyes are full of excitement, and it is the only reason why Haru does not scoff at Makoto’s insolence.

“Are you offering your hand?” Haru asks, trying his best not to smirk.

Makoto’s smile fades, and he drops his hand like a dead fish. “Oh! I am so sorry! Is that only for princesses? I’m _sorry_! I’ve never escorted someone by carriage before. I regret my actions - my apologies! If I offended you-”

“-Makoto,” Haru says.

“Y-yes, Prince Haruka?” Makoto asks, frowning horribly.

Haru examines the now bumbling knight before him, and he must admit that watching Makoto’s wholesome embarrassment, which is simply _not_ standard knightly behavior, takes some of Haru’s anxiety away.

“Just…be quiet, all right?” Haru commands. “I have not yet left the carriage and already you have apologized four times.”

Haru helps himself out of the carriage, and Makoto closes the door behind him. “I’m sor – yes, My Prince,” Makoto says, quickly correcting himself.

Makoto gives their docking ticket to the market’s horse master, and Makoto ties Orca’s reigns to the fencing post. Orca neighs, and Makoto shushes the steed, lovingly rubbing its forehead.

Haru does not realize how much he has missed looking at and being close to Makoto’s hands until this very moment, and the recognition makes Haru take a step back away from him.

“Is Orca really all right?” Haru asks.

Makoto looks at Haru as if surprised that the prince remembered Orca’s name, and Haru feels another dose of annoyance at the knight’s lack of awareness to his own self-worth.

“Orca is just fine,” Makoto assures. “He is always happy to stretch his legs – even happier when he gets to see you.”

Haru looks away, deciding it is a good time to start moving. He takes a step toward the path leading to the noisy market, but Makoto swiftly steps in front of him.

“Excuse you?” Haru asks, feeling jarred and taking a step back.

Makoto bounces on his heels, looking apologetic. “I am sorry, My Prince, but I considered it the entire ride here: I think we should have a signal.”

Haru does scoff this time. “What can that possibly mean?”

“If someone makes you uncomfortable or has a weapon,” Makoto explains, looking around, “you need to give me a signal.”

Haru raises a hand as he walks past Makoto. “That won’t be necessary. A signal is not required.”

“I’m afraid that it is with me,” Makoto says, not even a second later as he once again puts his body in front of Haru’s pathway. “I cannot let you into the market until we accomplish this goal.”

Haru places his hands on his hips, vaguely glaring at Makoto. Haru has never had to go through this procedure before, and he definitely did not expect Makoto to demand such a thing – or even stand up to him.

Then again, Makoto has never been timid in regards to his duties toward Haru’s safety. For half a second Haru’s annoyance morphs into a pleasant feeling, but the sensation does not last.

“You cannot be serious,” Haru says.

“I’m sorry, but I am very serious,” Makoto declares.

Haru rolls his eyes. “You can’t be threatening _and_ apologetic at the same time, Makoto.”

“I am not trying to be threatening,” Makoto casually says. “But I do apologize for how much time we are wasting arguing about this. You’re only allowed to be here for the early morning rush.”

Haru’s ears feel hot. A bit of embarrassment seeps into his body, which is outrageous since Makoto is not allowed to embarrass _him_ – Prince Haruka.

“All right,” Haru mutters, practically through gritted teeth. He lazily tugs on his ear. “There – an ear tug. That is my signal.”

“Outstanding,” Makoto says, bowing.

Haru fully glares at Makoto, not liking how pleased he looks with himself. “I have a rule of my own – as your prince.”

“Certainly,” Makoto says with a grin. “What will Prince Haruka have of me?”

“I lead and you follow,” Haru says, wishing he were taller so he would not have to look up as he explains this to Makoto. “I know keeping an eye on my every move will be important to you, but _I_ am the one in control. I like to wander, and I plan to wander.”

“Hence the signal, My Prince,” Makoto says, still grinning. Makoto at last steps out of Haru’s way. Haru keeps his lips pursed as he begins walking, wondering where the knight suddenly found nerve.

“And to answer your question – yes,” Makoto suddenly says, following in step next to Haru. “I do use that technique on my brother and sister.”

Haru’s eyes widen, and he turns his face away from Makoto as Makoto giggles into his hand.

They enter the busy marketplace. Vendors of various sorts – ranging from perishables to polearms – are scattered about the vast lot, each with their own unique canopies and displays to attract business.

Citizens from all over the kingdom roam about the area, crowding the sellers with business. It’s boisterous, congested, and some of the smells wafting through the air are offensively unpleasant, but Haru welcomes the environment.

As a prince, Haru never has to physically go anywhere to buy things, but every now and then Haru needs to take in the pulse of the city and absorb new stimuli. Most importantly, he is one of many in the market, blending in here more than he could anywhere else.

“Where would you like to start?” Makoto asks, having to raise his voice to compensate for the noise.

“There, Miyamoto,” Haru answers, gesturing to an extravagant plum-dyed canopy not too far from them. “He is a paint vender.”

“Of course,” Makoto says, seeming impressed. “Prince Haruka is an artist after all.”

Haru does not respond to the comment as they continue walking. It is the second time since they’ve met that Makoto has mistakenly called him an artist, and Haru is beginning to wonder if the knight even understands what the term means. Though Haru has natural abilities in crafts, he would never dare proclaim himself an artist.

In spite of this, Haru cannot help but feel vaguely proud – Makoto seems just so taken with the idea.

Haru and Makoto stroll up to the plum canopy, having to watch their step since the carpet floor is overcrowded with brush kits, canvasses, and other craft materials. A small, old man, who wears robes dyed the very same color as his canopy, immediately stands up from a table full of paint bottles and oil vials.

“Prince Haruka, it is an honor to be blessed by your presence this morning,” Miyamoto says, bowing.

Haru slightly nods his head. “Good morning, Miyamoto.”

“My word, this costs 4 gold shilmon!” Makoto exclaims, picking up a bottle of orange paint.

Both Haru and Miyamoto turn and stare at Makoto; Makoto blushes a bright red. He hastily puts the bottle down, which only makes him knock two others over. Haru sighs in irritated disbelief – he has no idea how this man ever manages to wield a sword.

“S-sorry!” Makoto stammers, correcting his clumsiness. He then clears his throat and stands tall. “I-I am the prince’s escort for the day. I’m Knight Tachibana - Sir Makoto. W-well, either is fine.”

Haru blinks at Makoto, and once again he questions if the tall, broad man before him is in fact real. This kind of scene is not what Haru is accustomed to with escorts – Makoto _himself_ is not what Haru is accustomed to.

“He certainly is a lively one,” Miyamoto says, chuckling.

“As I am learning,” Haru answers, still staring at Makoto.

“I will wait back here,” Makoto mumbles, stepping back as he bows his head in what is clearly shame.

Miyamoto laughs harder, waving a hand. “No – no! Sir Makoto,” Miyamoto says. “Come, come – see with your very own eyes that I only provide the finest of products to the finest of citizens!” He bows to Haru. “Prince Haruka is by far my most valued patron. The marvelous young man nearly buys all my stock!”

Makoto gapes at Haru. “Do you really?”

“Yes,” Haru says, offhandedly. “Miyamoto carries the best.”

“My greatest of gratitude, My Prince,” Miyamoto says. “What may I tempt you with today?”

Haru scans the rows of bottles on the table and examines the supplies behind Miyamoto on the stacking shelves. There is much to choose from, and Haru decides, as always, to take the smartest approach.

“I want five bottles per color of your exclusive dyes, three oil vials per color, and two extra canvasses in addition to my usual supply order,” Haru commands.

“Purest drop cloth?” Miyamoto asks.

Haru nods, trying not to notice how Makoto’s eyes grow with each item he adds to the list. “Yes.”

“I will quickly fetch your order,” Miyamoto says. He looks toward Makoto who stares blankly at him.

Haru sighs in annoyance again. “Sir Makoto, he will need a ticket…”

“Oh, yes!” Makoto says, reaching inside his cloak. He pulls out a Nanase ticket and hands it to Miyamoto. “Here you are.”

Haru shakes his head slightly and turns around, looking into the crowd as Miyamoto fills his requests. He catches Makoto’s curious stare again as he moves, and Makoto averts his eyes, pretending to be fascinated by the hilt of his sword.

Haru is more than content with ignoring the moment, but the expression on Makoto’s face infuriatingly pokes Haru in the side.

“What is so curious?” Haru asks.

Makoto looks up. “My Prince?”

Haru rolls his eyes. “You have not yet mastered your knightly stoicism, Makoto. Obviously you have something to confess, so say it.”

“My apologizes, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, looking sheepish. He picks up the bottle of orange paint again. “I simply had no idea that paint could cost a shilmon.”

“How else would paint be valued?” Haru asks, feeling incredulous.

Makoto shrugs. “In my village we usually trade amongst ourselves. Use money for the really important things, but even our best medicines and healthiest livestock do not cost a gold shilmon – let alone four of them.”

Makoto shakes his head, chuckling as he sets down the bottle. “I have never seen anything like this before.”

It is unclear to Haru what “this” refers to, and he does not know how to respond to such a statement. He never questions himself while shopping, and price has never amounted to more than a meager detail.

Haru almost exclusively deals in gold shilmon – always has and always will as a prince. It’s not something he ever thinks about.

“Oh,” Haru finally says in response, although he really doesn’t mean to say anything.

After Miyamoto finishes writing Haru’s ticket, Haru leads the way to a fabric vendor, which is next on his list.

As they walk, maneuvering through pockets of people and turning down eager foot-sellers, Haru continuously takes small peeks at his escort. Although Makoto is closely at Haru’s side, his attention seems to be solely on the marketplace. His green eyes zoom around in what appears to be wonderment, and little gasps – which to Haru sound far too innocent to be authentic – keep escaping Makoto’s mouth.

The fabric canopy Haru and Makoto arrive to is run by twin brothers, both clapping and bowing to Haru.

“Prince Haruka!” one of the vendors exclaims. “How may I help you? We have cotton from Egypt that only arrived this morning.”

“I will take two full rolls,” Haru says right away. “Anything else you possess that is international I want four sheets of each.”

Makoto makes a little gasping sound again, and Haru pointedly turns to him, but Makoto quickly hands the vendor a ticket to cover up the moment.

“This is beautiful,” Makoto says, picking up a square sample of fabric and running his fingers over the material.

“And how may I help you?” the other vendor asks Makoto. “I will take a gold shilmon off the price of that cut.”

Makoto looks utterly terrified, like no one in his life has ever offered him fabric before – or anything for that matter. Haru wants to roll his eyes; Makoto’s humility is starting to become ridiculous.

“Oh, that is quite all right,” Makoto says, holding out the fabric as if it is tainted with something vial. “I’m only the prince’s escort.”

“Escorts still need to look presentable,” the vendor says, pulling at Makoto’s green robes. “Maybe something to entice the palace’s chambermaids, eh?”

A spike of an unclear emotion makes Haru’s heart jolt. Makoto blushes hard, chuckling in a high-pitched tone as he rubs the back of his head. For some reason Makoto glances at Haru, and Haru has to look away for a moment.

“I honestly don’t need anything, but thank you,” Makoto says, looking moments away from exploding under all the attention. “I-I would love to know more about the Egyptian cotton, however. Is it really as supple as people say?”

“Will that be all for you, Prince Haruka?” Haru’s vendor asks him.

Haru looks up, suddenly remembering where he is. The vendor patiently waits for a response, but Haru finds himself looking over at Makoto, who is engrossed in the other vendor’s stories of Egyptian cotton. Makoto talks with the vendor so naturally, and the vendor seems just as taken by Makoto’s sweet, polite, and sincere manner.

“No,” Haru finally answers. He looks behind the vendor to all the different spools and sheets of fabric, searching for something without really knowing what it is.

When Haru spots it, he takes a peek at Makoto to make sure he is still distracted before answering. “There – I want two rolls of that deep green silk,” he says, pointing behind the vendor.

Though Haru has seen the green silk here many times, only now do his fingers itch to have it, but the prince elects not to question why.

“Where to next, My Prince?” Makoto asks once they are free of the twins. They pass a sweets vendor with jars and bowls piled with candy treats and sugary breads. Haru’s stomach makes a rumble, but his disciplined mind soon extinguishes the sensation.

“I want to walk around for awhile,” Haru declares.

“That sounds lovely,” Makoto says with a smile, and this time Haru cannot stop his own small grin from forming.

“I lead and you follow,” Haru says.

As Haru and Makoto wander the marketplace, Makoto’s attention is once again on the environment around them. It is not an issue, exactly. Haru prefers the silent, boring knights over the overeager and flirtatious ones. It gives Haru the freedom to take in the city while staying in his head – which is what Haru always appreciates.

However, for some reason that is not good enough for him right now – it is not good enough when Makoto is his escort.

Haru thinks about what he can say to spark conversation without it seeming obvious that he wants to converse. He considers what Makoto said about gold shilmons and adds it to Makoto’s overall reaction to the market so far.

“Do you not come here often?” Haru asks, after not being able to hold himself back any longer.

Makoto looks to Haru, suddenly appearing alarmed. “I come here plenty, Prince Haruka.”

Haru is certain that he knows Miyamoto better than Makoto, but Haru is also certain that from this day forward, he will always be able to tell when Makoto is lying. Haru continues to just stare at Makoto, waiting for the knight to realize the exact same thing.

Makoto sighs, briefly closing his eyes. “I am so sorry, Prince Haruka, but this is my first time here. I did not want to say anything because I didn’t want to lose the opportunity. I hope you can forgive me – and for lying just now.”

Even though they are walking, Haru feels stuck in place, trapped by a sense of fear he feels from Makoto.

“You needn’t apologize,” Haru says, although his reassurance does nothing for Makoto’s state. “I do feel the need to ask again if you are some kind of bandit,” Haru adds, trying to lighten the mood. “I cannot fathom how you’ve managed to avoid the market your whole life.”

Makoto chuckles, and Haru is thankful to hear it. “You speak as some of my Brothers,” Makoto says, grinning. “I understand that I am a knight now, but I believe the vendors at the other end need my business more.”

“The other end?” Haru asks, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?” Makoto looks curiously at Haru, and Haru wonders if he is missing something crucial.

“The marketplace south of here, of course,” Makoto slowly says. “There are two in this district. This one is for first and upper-middle class citizens. The other is for the middle and lower class.”

Haru can only try to not appear as staggered as he feels. “I was unaware of this.”

Makoto’s mouth twitches, and Haru can tell that the knight is trying not to react either. “Well, Prince Haruka, there is a whole other division of market south from here, closer to where I reside.”

Haru nods in silence, feeling like a fool for not knowing such a fact about his own kingdom.

“Prince Haruka?” Makoto says. Haru looks up at him. “Do you not think it’s extraordinary that the produce sold here is fresh?” Makoto asks. “Or that all the vendors can read and write – exchange with money for that matter?”

Haru wishes that he had never asked Makoto about the market – even wishes Sir Eito had never had to attend congress – because Haru’s only answer for Makoto right now is “no”, and Haru realizes how naive and ridiculous that is.

Haru suddenly feels pressure at his elbow, and he notices that he is not walking anymore. He looks up, and Makoto is softly grinning at him with amazingly kind green eyes that are the same color as the silk Haru just purchased.

“It’s all right, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, letting go of Haru’s arm. “I realize I sounded foolish just now, but I was merely curious. I am just as unfamiliar with this side. I could purchase what I think is hair ointment yet end up with exclusive horse urine.”

Haru actually laughs, relaxing tremendously. “That is quite vile.”

Makoto giggles. “I’m sorry, Prince Haruka. I am still learning my manners.” He gives Haru a small bow, and they begin walking again.

“Is there a specific place you would like to visit next?” Makoto asks.

“I have not yet decided,” Haru answers. They pass another sweet vendor, and Haru does not allow himself to look at what is on the table. “If there is a vendor you’d like to visit, we can travel there before I make a decision.”

Makoto cringes. “I could never do that, Prince Haruka.”

“It is not a problem,” Haru assures, feeling eerily like he is speaking to Rei. “You are an escort, not a prisoner. You are allowed to partake with me.”

Makoto’s ears glow pink for some reason, and his eyelashes droop a little. “T-that is very kind of you, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says. “However, I honestly cannot accept the invitation. Not only because I am on duty but…”

“What?” Haru demands.

“I’m not keen on buying things for myself,” Makoto confesses. “It seems rather silly.”

Haru scoffs, holding up a hand. “What is silly is your response. You are a knight – bounties are a part of your profession.”

“Yes, I know,” Makoto breathes, surprisingly seeming sick with the idea. “I am still growing accustomed to such a concept, but almost everything I earn I give away.”

“Give away?” Haru asks, rather loudly. “What ever for?” It is not as if Haru is against charity, but Makoto is in a dangerous profession. Haru firmly believes that the knight deserves to treat himself.

Makoto frowns, looking at Haru like he does not understand the question. “Because my family needs it more, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says. “I’m basically given housing and rations, so I keep just enough earnings for Orca and my basics. The rest goes toward making sure my siblings have good-fitted clothing and my mother…”

Makoto trails off, clearing his throat and shaking his head as if his tangent wasn’t intentional. Makoto looks down at Haru pleasantly, but Haru can see a strain in Makoto’s eyes, something false about his apparent cheerfulness.

“Extra items are pointless for me to have, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says.

Haru doesn’t know what to say. He is not completely blind to the poverty that lies within the kingdom, but only now is Haru realizing just how naïve he is in regards to how people like Makoto live.

“Don’t you ever want things?” Haru asks, and he hopes he sounds as sincere as he feels. Haru never has to share or consider anyone, but apparently Makoto cares for an entire family. Haru does not pity the knight; what he feels is more akin to concern.

Makoto shrugs, not making eye contact with Haru. “Everyone wants things, Prince Haruka, but for me it is about what I need.” Makoto suddenly smiles, and it looks honest. “I have Orca, which is enough luxury to last a lifetime. I would rather give my bounties to my family. Their happiness is enough purchase for me.”

Something warm and soft spreads out from Haru’s chest, traveling throughout his body as Makoto’s self-sacrificing words float in his head. It feels so good that Haru wants to close his eyes and sigh, but he keeps standing – keeps walking somehow.

“So how about your family?” Haru asks, in a softer voice than intended, once he finds himself again.

“My Prince?” Makoto asks.

“Your family,” Haru repeats. “Tell me what you would buy for them.”

“For them?” Makoto questions, eyes wide. He shakes his head. “Prince Haruka, I am beyond flattered that you would ask such a thing, but it is not necessary.”

Haru’s sensitivity fades away. He has never had to try so hard with someone before, and it irritates the life out of Haru that he always wants to keep trying.

“When will you learn that _I_ am the prince here?” Haru asks, stopping in place and holding up a hand.

Makoto looks taken aback as he also stops. “Yes, My Prince, I know you are.”

“Then do what I say when I say to do it,” Haru orders, and he has never felt so ridiculous and stifled giving a direct order before. “Do you understand?”

Makoto slowly blinks, appearing stifled as well. “Yes, Prince Haruka,” he breathes.

“Fantastic,” Haru says sarcastically, adjusting his collar that is sticking to his now roasting body.

“I am uncertain of where to start,” Makoto says, looking flustered and nervous – a combination Haru decides looks really good on the knight. “As I mentioned, I am not familiar with this marketplace.”

“And yet I am,” Haru points out. Makoto opens his mouth, and Haru immediately adds, “This is an order.”

Makoto laughs, resting a hand on his neck. “You are a little impossible, Prince Haruka.”

Haru smirks, taking the observation as a compliment. He always gets what he wants in the end – even if he has to wrangle it from the most exasperating and peculiar knight ever in existence.

“As are you, Sir Makoto,” Haru teases. Makoto wets his lips, and Haru pretends not to notice.

“Well, my cousin Nagisa would be the easiest to shop for,” Makoto says, looking around. “Where are the best pastry vendors?”

****

It is the first time since arriving to the market that Haru feels he has complete control over his situation. He begins to act more as a guide, showing Makoto the different types of vendors and exposing him to some of the more exotic items there are in the world.

Haru continues to buy odd bits and things as they pass vendors that catch his eye, and it is absurd how one morning with Makoto can suddenly make Haru so much more aware of how he spends his money. Princes are never _self-conscious_ , especially about things they want.

At the same time, Haru learns a bit more about Makoto and his family through the odd, simple gifts he shows Haru that he would purchase for them.

By the conclusion of their expedition, Haru feels rather exhausted – body and mind both included. He has never wandered for so long out here before, nor has he _spoken_ so much. Haru welcomes the fatigue, however. It is a strange type of exhaustion that makes him feel more alive.

“Did I perform well, My Prince?” Makoto asks, as they leave the last vendor on his mock shopping list – a supplier who carries bowing accessories, things Makoto would purchase for his brother Ren.

“Adequately, I suppose,” Haru teases.

Makoto bows, just as teasingly. “Well, My Prince, I must say that we are nearing the end of your time here. I will have to escort you back soon.”

Haru doesn’t protest the matter. He wants a bath more than anything right now, and Makoto’s sweat-sopped hair tells Haru that relief is probably also best for the knight.

“There is one last canopy I want to visit,” Haru says. “It is not far away.”

Haru leads Makoto to his final destination: a vendor who sells items collected from the beach. Some pieces are decorative, such as sea stones turned into jewelry and lavish jars of mixed sand, but Haru has his eyes on the stunning seashells and barnacle fragments.

Haru does not feel self-conscious this time, but that is mostly because Makoto doesn’t comment on anything or even speaks with the vendor. He stays a bit away, staring at his boots. Haru says nothing during this time, but he does find it incredibly curious.

It is only when Haru’s order is being filled that Makoto steps back over to him. “May I ask why you simply do not go to the beach for all this, My Prince? I understand money is no object, but you must love it there.”

“I do,” Haru answers without hesitation. He keeps his focus on a large jar of pebbly sand. “However, I am not permitted to the beach very often anymore.”

“That must be hard for you,” Makoto gently says. Haru doesn’t answer, only vaguely nods. “May I ask something else?”

“Possibly,” Haru breathes, looking up at Makoto and moving hair out of his eyes.

Makoto tenses for a second before deciphering Haru’s true attitude. The knight relaxes, and Haru figures that over the morning Makoto must have learned a few more things about him as well.

“All right,” Makoto says, scooting next to Haru. His sweat and natural scent dives right up Haru’s nose, and the prince unconsciously shifts away a little, feeling a bit too consumed by it.

“Why are you not allowed sugar?” Makoto asks. “I was thoroughly lectured about what you are not allowed to purchase here. Alcohol and livestock I understand but sugar?”

This time Haru pretends to be fascinated by his boots. “I am a Nanase,” he answers simply. “We believe in keeping the body pure and healthy. All sugar has done for this country is make people sick, bloated, and has rotted their teeth. Consequently, we do not partake.”

“You’ve never had candy?” Makoto asks.

“Of course I have!” Haru snaps. “Only, not in a long while.”

Makoto nods, grinning for some reason. “I’m surprised that you do not buy it regardless. I can’t imagine something silly like rules ever stopping you.”

Haru smirks at Makoto’s mildly clever cheek. “I do get tempted, but I would never.” He peers around the crowded marketplace. “Most of the vendors know which day I am coming. If any of them are caught selling to me…well – it just would not be worth it to me.”

Makoto exhales deeply, running a hand through his messy hair. “Curious.”

“What’s curious?” Haru questions.

“I have freedoms that even a prince does not have,” Makoto says.

Haru has to look away. “Gold shilmon cannot buy everything, Makoto.”

Once Haru’s ticket is completed, he and Makoto begin their journey back to the carriage, Makoto mainly talking and Haru mainly listening.

Usually the journey back is the worst part, but today Haru is relieved to get off his feet and use his new paints. Also, as much as Haru ignores the happy voice in his head, he senses returning to the castle will not be so bothersome, considering it is where Makoto has to return to as well.

“I believe the dining ware was my favorite,” Makoto says as they near the entrance.

“How ever can that be?” Haru asks in disbelief.

Makoto giggles. “I never knew there were so many ways to…” He trails off and abruptly stops walking, his body instantly becoming still and tense.

Haru stops as well and looks up at Makoto, who’s staring ahead at something. “Makoto?” Haru asks, trying to follow Makoto’s line of vision. “Makoto?” he calls again.

“Stay here, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says in a dark, sharp tone that catches Haru off guard.

Haru tries even more to see what Makoto sees. “What is the matter?”

“Just stay here,” Makoto urges again. “Please?” His tone and alerted expression cause Haru to nod in agreement without even thinking about it.

Makoto swiftly walks away and across the market. From where Haru is standing, he can see Makoto storm up to a tall man wearing scarlet robes, who equally possesses just as red of hair. Makoto says something to him, and the other man with red hair quickly pulls Makoto to a more secluded area.

Haru places his hands on his hips, straining his eyes to see what is going on as the two men huddle together, but it is impossible from here. Haru sighs in frustration and decides to head over to them.

“Just tell me it is not you,” Makoto says to the other man as Haru draws closer.

“What difference will it make to you, Makoto?” the redhead asks.

“All the difference,” Makoto urges, and without even knowing the situation, Haru is certain that Makoto is being sincere.

The moment Haru approaches them, the redhead straightens up and smiles, showing a set of surprisingly sharp teeth – teeth that make Haru automatically think of a shark.

“Ah, is this your charge?” the redhead asks, nodding to Haru.

Makoto turns around and notices Haru. He gasps, his eye widening. “I thought I told you to stay put?” Makoto exclaims, rather rudely.

“Marvelous, Makoto,” the redhead says with a chuckle. “Your important knightly duty is acting as a wet nurse?”

“I beg your pardon?” Haru demands, stepping forward and feeling amazed by the man's arrogance.

Just from Makoto’s behavior, and by how easily the redhead says Makoto’s first name, Haru deduces that they know each other well, but there is no possible way that their relationship is from a positive base.

“Don’t,” Makoto warns to the redhead, shielding Haru away from him with an outstretched arm. Makoto keeps his eyes on the man in scarlet robes. “You say nothing to Prince Haruka.”

The redhead rolls his eyes and sweeps back his robes, apparently not phased by either Makoto or Haru. “I can say whatever I want – that is the point,” the redhead says.

“Who are you?” Haru demands, wondering how on Earth this man is even acquainted with Makoto, which is the only reason Haru does not feel too alarmed or has the man thrown into confinement.

The redhead laughs again, exposing his shark teeth. “My word, you mean your chummy knight has not yet told you about himself? Well, _My Prince_ , I-”

“- that is enough!” Makoto declares, stomping his foot. “You and I are leaving now,” Makoto says, giving Haru a glance before turning his attention once again to the redhead.

“You would be wise to leave, too,” Makoto tells the man. “You need to not be here – _ever again_.”

Despite the speech Makoto gave to Rei before they left for the market, Haru had no idea that the knight possessed this much intensity. Haru cannot ignore how much it makes him tremble. Makes Haru feel good in a way that only comes from blood rushing to a particular _nether_ body part – something the prince is choosing to ignore.

The redhead seems just as stunned as Haru at Makoto’s declaration. “I suppose I should go to the other side then, right?” the redhead asks, in a softer voice. “Where I belong? Where Gou belongs?” He scrunches up his face, and Haru wonders if the man will actually start crying.

Makoto’s eyes soften just as much as the redhead’s voice. “Go home,” Makoto says. The redhead glares at Makoto before facing Haru, giving him a once-over. He opens his mouth, but Makoto reaches out, gripping the redhead’s upper arm.

“You would also be wise not to say another word to the prince,” Makoto warns.

The redhead roughly brushes Makoto’s hand away. “You will use your sword against me right now, to protect _him_?”

Makoto pulls his sword completely out of the sheath, the sharp sound of the blade cutting through the air. Makoto holds it firmly, but there is no pride in his stance. “Yes,” Makoto says with a vacant expression. “I will use my sword on you to protect my prince.”

Haru’s heart starts beating harder in his chest, and he suddenly feels scared. Not at the possibility that something will happen, but at the possible way his body will react.

The redhead smirks, glancing around. “Go ahead,” he spits. “Show your true loyalty.”

Haru’s eyelashes flutter as he watches the two men stare each other down, both talking about him but somehow only meaning it for one another. Haru begins to feel horribly uncomfortable, and the moment he realizes his feeling, Makoto looks at him.

Haru does not know what to say, and they gaze at each other for only a moment before Makoto lets out a long exhale, sheathing his sword.

“I am taking the prince back now,” Makoto says to the redhead. “Please, do not let me find you here again.”

The redhead scoffs. “You can’t be threatening _and_ apologetic at the same time, Makoto.”

Makoto’s eyes widen, as do Haru’s. The critique is the very same one Haru gave Makoto just this morning, and Haru feels even more uneasy knowing that he expresses the same thoughts to Makoto as the redhead.

Even under the beaming sun Makoto pales, and his ridged posture slumps. “Let us leave, My Prince. We have no business here.” Makoto walks away without another word, and Haru hurriedly follows – letting Makoto lead this time.

“I’m sure we will meet again!” the redhead calls after them. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Prince Haruka!”

Haru wants to turn around and shout back something heinous, but he is far too mannered to do so. His body is tingly, and his mind roams as they quickly pace the rest of the journey out of the market. Makoto is silent the entire time, keeping a hand on his hilt and his face stern.

Haru cannot say that he is particularly enjoying Makoto’s stoic professionalism right now, and he is honestly surprised that Makoto could ever have involvement with someone like the redheaded shark man.

When they get back to their carriage, Makoto pulls an apple out of the pocket of his saddle, feeding Orca and scratching its neck. Makoto talks tenderly to Orca, as always, but his bright smile isn’t present. In fact, he has no expression at all.

It is at this moment when Haru realizes that he has to say something, no matter how much he respects deep, personal privacy. “Who was that man?” Haru asks, standing by the carriage door.

Makoto gives Orca another pat on the neck before walking over to Haru. “No one you have to worry about, My Prince. He is of no threat to you or to the kingdom.”

“And what about to you?” Haru questions.

Makoto frowns. “My Prince?”

Haru gives Makoto a look. “That man is not the first hooligan I have ever met to hate the royal family,” he explains. “But it did appear that you knew him, or that he at least knows you. I am very observant, remember?”

Makoto opens and closes his mouth a few times before sighing, leaning back against the carriage. “I do not want to lie to you, My Prince, but I also do not wish to speak of this.” Makoto turns and faces Haru completely, pressing his shoulder against the carriage door. “Trust me, Prince Haruka, and listen to me just this one time. Please?”

Makoto’s green eyes are so pleading, and the gentleness of his voice hugs Haru’s spine. It is too much for Haru to resist, and it does not help that the knight just smells so good, or that this close Haru notices that Makoto’s lips are a lot fuller than he realized.

Haru looks away from Makoto. “All right,” he says, beating down ridiculous thoughts. “I think I would like to go back now.”

“Right away, My Prince,” Makoto says, distractedly, opening the carriage door for Haru.

****

When they arrive to the castle, Rei is already waiting at the entrance. Haru excuses himself, leaving Makoto to debrief with Rei.

Haru returns to his room, slipping off his robes, vests, and boots. He collapses into bed, and Haru lets out the long, strangled sigh that he has held in the entire ride back.

More thoughts than Haru can bear swim through his head, and he slams a pillow over his face in an attempt to drown them.

“My Prince?” Rei calls.

“If the clothier is here, he will have to wait until after my bath,” Haru says loudly from under the pillow.

“No, My Prince, you have company,” Rei says. “He claims it is urgent.”

Rei never travels guests to Haru’s bedchambers unless it is important, so Haru sits up and shuffles himself out of bed, figuring the marshal has a problem with his tickets.

“Fine,” Haru says. “Permit the guest.”

Rei steps out for a moment, bringing Makoto with him as he enters the room again. Makoto immediately kneels. “My apologizes, but a mere moment of your time, Prince Haruka.”

“Only a moment,” Rei says to Makoto. “My Prince?” Haru drags his eyes to Rei, who is staring curiously at him. “I will be right outside,” Rei assures. Haru can only nod to him, and Rei looks down at the still-kneeling Makoto, grinning just a little before leaving the room.

Haru stares back down at Makoto, feeling the air around them thinning. Even after spending an entire day with Makoto, learning about him and even being defended by him, Haru still feels tense. Especially now that they are completely alone in the place where Haru sleeps and paints and has spent most of his time lately thinking about the knight.

“You may rise,” Haru quietly says.

Makoto slowly stands, and Haru unconsciously lets out a shaky breath. Makoto says nothing, only continues gazing at Haru. Makoto appears as though he is not even here in the moment.

Haru looks away, tapping his foot. “Well? My gentleman said it was urgent.” He looks back at Makoto.

Makoto blinks, apparently coming back to his senses. “R-right.” He clears his throat. “Well, um, I just want to make sure that you are all right. I did not get a chance to give you a proper farewell. I apologize.”

Haru feels a rush of relief, and for once he is grateful for Makoto’s obsessive need to ask for forgiveness. Feeling annoyed with the knight is something Haru can handle. Annoyance doesn’t strip Haru of his control.

“You have a very bizarre compulsion, Makoto,” Haru says. “I am the one who left, but, yes. I am all right.”

Makoto nods, honestly looking relieved. “I am glad. I…I didn’t know if what I said before we left the market upset you.”

“It did not upset me,” Haru answers. “I can respect privacy.”

Makoto puts a hand to his chest like he is about to take vows. “I would never put your safety at risk, Prince Haruka,” he says, his words firm yet somehow so tender.

Haru feels another hitched breath in his throat, but he swallows it. “I know,” he says, wanting to step closer to Makoto. Haru needs to do something to make the urge go away.

“So, is that all?” Haru asks, moving hair out of his face and trying to seem indifferent.

“Actually, no,” Makoto says. He quickly looks behind him before reaching inside of his cloak, pulling out a small cotton sack. He blushes terribly as he offers the sack to Haru. “I, um, I also wanted to give this to you.”

Haru slowly takes the sack that has a bit of weight to it. He opens it to reveal small, colorful pieces of licorice and sugar rocks. Haru gasps, looking up at Makoto who is now grinning proudly at him – the happiest Makoto has seemed since they ran into the redhead.

Haru’s first fleeting thought is if he suffered from heat sickness at the market because he does not recall Makoto purchasing sweets.

“I bought them while we were at the pottery canopy,” Makoto says, answering Haru’s silent question. “There was a treat vendor next to it, and I could not pass the chance while you were busy shopping.”

“How did you get this past, Rei?” Haru asks, rather breathlessly, feeling more and more amazed with the knight.

“Oh,” Makoto says, giggling a little. “He wouldn’t let me come up here at first, but I told him I had a present from one of the ocean vendors for you. That seemed to be enough.”

Haru wants to smile, and he does. He feels too excited and warm and _happy_ not to. “In my castle we call something like that a rouse,” Haru teases. “You, Sir Makoto, _lied_.”

Makoto cringes, slapping a hand to his face. “Only because I had to, My Prince! It was the only way he would let me see you. I…I had to see you again.”

This time Haru blushes. He moves his focus to the sack of sweets and tries to will his stomach to stop twisting in nervous excitement. “I-is this why you inquired about my sugar restrictions?” Haru asks.

“Yes, My Prince. I needed to make sure you did not possess an aversion to sugar before I gave this to you,” Makoto explains.

Haru shakes his head in disbelief, impressed by Makoto’s mild deceptions. “H-how did you even know I wanted any?”

Makoto laughs. “If I may say, Prince Haruka, I noticed you glance at least once at every treat vendor we strolled by today.”

“I did not,” Haru mutters, although his apparent lack of facial discipline is the last thing on his mind at the moment.

Haru cannot believe that Makoto would do such a thing for him. Makoto, who gives everything to his family and never buys an item for himself, purchased sugary contraband for him, just because Makoto saw that Haru wanted some. It is too much of a tale to believe, but somehow it’s real. Makoto is real.

“You could get into serious trouble for this,” Haru says, looking up at Makoto.

“Yes, I could,” Makoto says, somewhat seriously. “But somehow I know you won’t let that happen.”

“I won’t,” Haru answers right away. “Thank you, Makoto.”

Makoto’s eyes soften. In fact, his entire body seems to melt a little. “You are very welcome, My Prince. I love sugar, so if I can share it with at least one person a day, I feel like I have done my job.”

Haru gently laughs. “You have definitely done your job today.”

Haru bites the inside of his cheek. He wants to add that he is sorry for not listening at the market; he wants to say that the redheaded shark man can easily be dealt with if Makoto wanted, and Haru wants to tell Makoto that today has been truly fun for him. One of the best days Haru can ever remembering having.

Instead, Haru takes a few pieces of rock sugar from the sack, offering them to Makoto. “Here,” Haru says.

“I purchased those for you, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, holding up his hands.

Haru rolls his eyes. “And I am forcing you to enjoy some. Do not fret, you bought these for me, having a piece won’t mean that you did it for yourself.”

Makoto sighs, hesitantly taking a few pieces. “You are very generous, Prince Haruka,” he says, placing the pieces in his vest. “W-well, I will leave you to your day. Hopefully our next meeting will end less dramatically.”

Haru clutches the treat sack tightly in his hands, and he makes up his mind before realizing that he had been asking himself a question. “I want our next meeting to be sooner rather than later.”

“O-oh?” Makoto asks, rubbing his neck. “When will the next voyage be?”

“Not that,” Haru says. “I want to develop my riding skill, and I want you to instruct me.”

Makoto’s ears flush a dark red. “You honestly want me to teach you how to ride?” he asks, his tone far too deep for Haru.

A pulse hits Haru’s lower stomach again, but he manages to stay poised. “Yes.”

Makoto dips his head. “I would be honored, Prince Haruka.”

Haru nods, doing all he can to not seem as relieved and eager and scared as he feels. “I will have my gentleman make the arrangements.” Haru looks away for a moment, trying to find the right words. “And I give you my word that I will listen.”

“I look forward to that special day, My Prince,” Makoto says.

Haru peers up, and by Makoto’s soft eyes and kind grin, Haru can tell that Makoto accepts his horrible excuse for an apology.

Makoto bows. “Have a wonderful day, Prince Haruka.”

Haru stays silent, not feeling the need to say anything. Makoto turns to leave, and Haru stays right in place. The knight gets to the archway before turning around, which Haru somehow knew he would do.

“This is probably the most beautiful place I have ever been to – your room,” Makoto says, looking around. “I just wanted to say that.” He gives Haru a smile and leaves the chambers.

Haru closes his eyes and sighs and he walks backwards to his bed, falling onto it when his knees hit the post.

“All right, what is really going on?” Rei demands, storming into the room a second later.

Haru hurriedly hides the sack of candy underneath his pillow and sits up. “Pardon?”

Rei stands before Haru with his arms crossed over his chest and his shoulders ridged. “If Tachibana is a representation of the future knights of this kingdom, then we are all doomed. The man cannot lie to save his life – or possibly yours.”

Haru finds himself laughing. “You can calm down now.”

“ _No_ , I cannot. Not until after I know what transpired,” Rei says, adjusting his spectacles higher on his nose. “I only pretended to go along with his lousy story because he seemed desperate. His attempt was regrettably dismal.”

Haru runs a finger over his lips, easily picturing Makoto trying to lie to a person like Rei. “Well, nothing happened,” Haru assures. “No, there was no gift. He just wanted to make sure I got back safely.”

Rei raises an eyebrow. “He had evidence of that already.” Haru says nothing, just mildly gestures. Rei adjusts his spectacles again, giving Haru a thorough once-over. “At least you seem happier now – both of you, actually.”

“What do you mean?” Haru asks.

“When you two returned I was concerned,” Rei says.

Haru considers everything that has happened, wondering if and what he should share with his gentleman. Rei has knowledge to every aspect of Haru’s life, but Haru decides that he wants to keep his day at the market to himself. It’s something just for him…and Makoto.

“We had a long day. That is all,” Haru says.

Rei opens his mouth but quickly closes it again. He sighs, neatly holding his hands behind his back. The gesture tells Haru right away that Rei wants to say something personal.

“May I speak candidly?” Rei asks.

“Certainly,” Haru answers, hoping that he will not regret his answer.

Haru is surprised when Rei actually sits next to him on the bed. Rei takes off his brim cap, exposing his neat, lush hair. Rei hold his hands in his lap, grinning at Haru.

“I of course went looking for you that day, after I found the reservoir empty,” Rei explains. “I saw you with Sir Makoto in the stables during my search, grooming his steed no less.”

Haru’s heart jumps a beat. He looks away. “That is enough.”

Rei lets out a carefree, arrogant guffaw that he only unleashes when he’s like this – acting simply as Haru’s closest friend. Haru has never verbally expressed this feeling to Rei, of course.

“He was purely giving me instructions on proper care,” Haru explains. “He _is_ quite knowledgeable.”

Rei stops laughing, and he gazes at Haru with his all-knowing eyes. “I am sure he is. Sir Makoto is also quite beautiful, yes?”

Haru’s eyes widen, and he hears a buzzing in his ears. “I. I-I don’t...”

“Haru,” Rei whispers, and the one word helps Haru to calm down. “It’s all right, do not worry.” Rei kindly smiles. “That’s why I let you two be, and it is the true reason why I allowed him in here.”

Haru doesn’t know what to say. He does not know what is so obvious to Rei that Haru himself does not understand. It terrifies him that he is suddenly so uncertain about things, but he is lucky that Rei is here for him. That Rei supports whatever the hell is happening to Haru.

“Thank you, Rei,” Haru softly says, meaning the phrase more now than he ever has in his life.

Rei touches Haru’s arm for a moment. “Anything for you, My Prince.” He stands up, placing his hat carefully on his head again and falling back into his stiff posture. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“You have done plenty,” Haru says. Rei gives him a bow, and before Haru can stop himself he asks, “Do you really think he’s beautiful?”

Rei rises to a stand. “Yes, I do.”

Haru twitches a smile and nods to Rei, who returns the gesture before leaving the chambers. Haru stays sitting on the bed. He reaches under his pillow and takes hold of the candy sack, choosing a pinkish sugar rock.

Haru closes his eyes, putting the rock to his lips. “Makoto,” Haru whispers, before easing the candy piece into his mouth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh, Haru is so precious...too precious for me. And I'm enjoying Makoto being sort of this "mysterious" knight to Haru. Like, how often does Makoto get to be the mysterious, gravitational guy? lol


	5. Whirlwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What am I doing here?"

Makoto blocks the strike with the flat of his sword, trapping his Brother’s blade and stifling his momentum. Makoto then uses all of his might to push his Brother away while still deflecting with his sword.

Mikoshiba trips back several steps but does not completely lose his balance. “Superb, Tachibana,” Mikoshiba pants, repositioning himself. “Again.” Mikoshiba lunges toward Makoto once more with his sword, Makoto choosing this time to dodge out of the way whilst keeping up his blade.

Time and time again Mikoshiba attacks, and Makoto deflects the blows with a variety of defensive techniques. Sparring in the dank armory always makes Makoto feel restrained, but he tries his hardest to keep up with the older, faster, and vastly better swordsman, Mikoshiba Seijuurou.

After what feels like ages of thrusts and counterattacks, the two finally take a moment to breathe. Makoto hunches over, resting his shaking hands on his thighs. He feels exhausted. He and Mikoshiba have been sparring in their chainmail for much of the evening.

“Are you weary?” Mikoshiba teases, out of breath but still standing. “I am positive that my baby brother has a stronger will than this.”

“Not tired,” Makoto rasps, standing and holding up his sword.

Mikoshiba smirks, seeming impressed. His short, spiky red hair is sticking up all over the place, and Makoto cannot help but think about how Rin’s hair would do the same thing when they sparred as boys.

Makoto expunges the memory at once. That was a different time – a different life, and one that Makoto can never return to, especially after the disaster at the market.

“One more time,” Makoto commands, forcing his mind to clear.

“All right,” Mikoshiba says. He takes numerous steps backward. “You attack, and I will counter.”

Makoto nods, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. He keeps his feet shoulder length apart, gripping his blade tightly in his hands. Makoto concentrates on Mikoshiba’s chest while also remembering where the tip of his blade is currently angled.

Makoto takes a deep breath and lunges forward, thrusting his blade straight out at Mikoshiba. His thrust is strong, but Mikoshiba almost too easily displaces Makoto’s sword with a cutting strike of his own. Mikoshiba traps Makoto’s blade and forces it to a downward angle, which throws Makoto off balance.

Makoto quickly corrects his mistake and counterstrikes, hitting the flat of Mikoshiba’s blade again. Using the momentum, Makoto hurls Mikoshiba backward and against the stone wall.

Mikoshiba hits the wall hard, gasping. “G-good,” he breathes, swallowing hard. “And now?”

“I demand you surrender,” Makoto says, out of breath, pressing into Mikoshiba’s chest.

Mikoshiba smirks again, looking completely in control even though Makoto has him pinned. “You could…”

Mikoshiba suddenly knees Makoto in the stomach, causing Makoto to lose his air and bend over. He instantly realizes that dropping his guard is a mistake, but he cannot correct himself in time and is abruptly rammed head-on by Mikoshiba.

Makoto’s body hits the opposite wall, his head knocking hard against the stone. The sharp pain, combined with the pang from the stomach kick, startles Makoto’s consciousness and he drops his sword.

It is the same move Makoto had used; only with a lot more blunt trauma. Also, unlike Makoto, Mikoshiba swiftly draws one of the sharp edges of his sword right up to Makoto’s throat.

“Or,” Mikoshiba pants, seeming unfazed, as if he has done this a thousand times before. “You cut the enemy’s throat right then and there. Like I could do to you right now. Understand?” Makoto only nods, and he ignores the stinging pressure in his eyes.

Mikoshiba unhands Makoto, looking disappointed. “You dropped your weapon.”

“I apologize,” Makoto says as he hastily picks up his sword, feeling shameful for doing something so idiotic and despicable.

“Do not apologize, Tachibana,” Mikoshiba says. “The enemy certainly won’t mourn the loss of your sword. Especially when he is cutting into your chest.”

Makoto nods vigorously. Even though he and Mikoshiba were knighted together, Mikoshiba is already so comfortable in the profession and is already so accepting with their motto: Execute or be destroyed.

“Yes,” Makoto says, not being able to meet Mikoshiba’s eyes. “I understand.”

“I pray you do,” Mikoshiba says, placing his sword back into the sheath on his belt. “Your defensive maneuvers are exceptional, and you are easily one of the strongest Brothers in the kingdom’s arsenal.”

“However?” Makoto adds for Mikoshiba.

Mikoshiba looks sympathetic. “Your balance is poor, Tachibana, which I empathize considering your size, but it needs to be corrected. More importantly, you are far too timid on offensive. You have to be ready to strike. You have to be ready to slay if necessary.”

Makoto’s stomach knots so tightly that he feels he may become ill, but he attempts to stay poised in front of his Brother. “I will keep practicing. Thank you.”

Mikoshiba nods. “We’re Brothers, Tachibana. We all have to help each other.”

“Not this night!” Higa, another fellow knight, says as he skips into the armory. “Tonight we will receive aid from the maids!” he declares, moving wavy brown hair out of his face.

Mikoshiba’s eyes widen to twice their size, just as they always do when females are involved. “W-women?”

“Delectable women,” Higa says, hooking an arm around Mikoshiba’s neck. “They await us at our stables. Some of our Brothers are already there.”

“Splendid!” Mikoshiba cheers, apparently no longer interested in swordplay. “Tachibana, are you joining us?”

“Of course he is,” Higa confidently answers.

Makoto is speechless as his Brothers await his response. They both seem so eager and excited, but all Makoto feels is uneasy – and sore from the knee bash.

Makoto eventually shakes his head. “N-no, I’ll stay here. I need to keep practicing.”

Both Makoto’s Brothers roll their eyes and groan.

“Enough nonsense, Tachibana!” Mikoshiba declares. “You have not accompanied us one time since we were knighted, and you can have first choice of what’s left, if it pleases you.”

Makoto blushes, rubbing his neck. It is unreal, and also nightmarish, that his title as knight just privileges him to casual sex with some of the employees of the kingdom. He cannot be the only man unnerved by such a thing.

“It does not,” Makoto says, honestly. “I simply have no interest.”

Mikoshiba gives Makoto a curious look. “You used to.”

Makoto has to look away. He suddenly feels sweatier and dirtier than he already is. “Not anymore,” he says, somewhat distantly.

“If you do not find any of the maids pleasing, I’ll suck your cock when I have enough ale in me,” Higa says.

The knot in Makoto’s stomach pulls tightly again. He instantly looks up, feeling the blush spread over his entire body. Higa and Mikoshiba both grin humorously at him.

“I-I don’t…” Makoto croaks.

Makoto’s Brothers burst into laughter.

“Never mind it, Higa!” Mikoshiba says. “I don’t think Tachibana will be joining us for any partaking – tits or cock.”

Higa clicks his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head. “Pity. Have a good night _polishing_ your own sword, Tachibana.”

“Ha! Clever!” Mikoshiba says as he throws his arm over Higa’s shoulder, and the two make their way out of the armory.

Makoto waits until he can no longer hear his Brothers’ obscenities before he lets out a deep sigh. He walks backward until his back touches the wall, and Makoto slides down to the cold floor.

Makoto takes off his gloves and runs a hand through his sticky hair, wondering what he should feel more troubled by: the fact that he is one of the strongest yet least capable attackers, or that his sex life – lack there of – is a joke for his Brothers’ amusement.

Makoto picks at one of his calluses. He knows that there is expectation now that he is a sworn knight – even more expectation than when Makoto was in training, but Makoto made a promise to himself when he was knighted, and he intends to keep his word.

It helps that Makoto has no real interest in sex, in spite of Makoto’s entire existence now telling him that he should. For his Brothers intercourse is about fun and pride, but for Makoto his few times at the act only ever really served to help him fit in with his comrades.

Makoto feels sick again, so he decides to think about something else. He holds his sword in his hands and looks at the blade that has yet to pierce flesh – yet to end life.

“What am I doing here?” Makoto asks himself aloud, shaking his head.

Training is one thing; adapting the theory is another, but putting maul and murder into practice is something Makoto is still struggling with, which he realizes is a liability.

Makoto pushes his sword aside in frustration. He may be a knight, but he is also a Tachibana. His family too has decrees and ideas on how to treat people. He has already done things that he can never tell his family, and there are parts about himself that Makoto will never be able to discuss as a knight to the kingdom.

Makoto always tries his very best to balance both existences, and he often feels like he fails – his encounter with Rin while escorting Prince Haruka being a prime example.

“What am I doing here?” Makoto asks again, hoping someone will answer.

He eases himself off the floor and puts his gloves back on, deciding to spar with the air and work on his handles for a bit longer. Makoto grunts and sweats harder as he slices through the air, thrusting the tip of his blade into imaginary enemies, but it is not quite enough to distract him.

Makoto returns to the barracks late into the night, only after his hands are too raw to hold his sword anymore. The first-year housing quarters are dark and mostly empty, just one other sleeping knight keeping Makoto from being completely alone.

Makoto blows out the candle on his Brother’s small side table before passing him, using the moonlight coming from the windows to guide him to his own cot. On his pillow are two rolled pieces of parchment, most likely brought from the messenger while Makoto was sparing.

Makoto widely grins and jumps into bed, lighting his own candle before quickly untying both parchments. He unrolls one of the letters, and his smile grows as his father’s words pull him into a big, warm embrace that Makoto desperately wishes was real right now.

At home Ren and Ran always latch onto Makoto’s body and even bite him sometimes. Nagisa is never too tired to jump on Makoto’s back, and his father – and mother when she is well – never withhold affection.

It is not sexual pleasure that Makoto finds himself aching for, rather, it is honest, loving affection that Makoto desires, and he knows that not even being a knight can grant him such a wish.

Makoto rubs his eyes that have suddenly gone watery, telling himself that crying is definitely not an option. However, even after he scrubs them dry and start reading the letter again, a strain stingingly pulls at the corner of his eyes.

The words become harder to see the more he tries to read them, and Makoto begins to feel a thumping pain at his temple. By now Makoto understands what the aches means. He regrettably decides to put the letters away and wait until morning when his vision is at its best. He rolls up the parchment, worrying about how bad his night vision is starting to become.

Over the past few years his sight has started decreasing, but it is no longer an option for Makoto to wear spectacles – not as a knight.

Makoto blows out his candle and strips himself of everything but his underwear, climbing into bed while still far too sweaty and sticky.

He stares up at the ceiling, knowing that he needs to sleep but having too much on his mind to get comfortable. He needs something to calm him down and grant him peace.

Without thinking about it, Makoto reaches down and underneath his bed, finding his satchel and digging into it. His fingers connect to something small and hard, and Makoto’s smile returns as he takes out the last piece of rock sugar that Prince Haruka gave to him a few days past.

Makoto lies back in bed, moving the candy piece between his fingers. He sighs, and his muscles relax as he thinks about the stunning, blue-eyed prince; something Makoto finds himself doing a lot everyday – even more so since his morning with Prince Haruka at the market.

Makoto knows that he shouldn’t and probably isn’t allowed to think about the prince, but he simply cannot help himself. Makoto cannot deny to himself that all of his happiest moments since becoming a knight have involved Prince Haruka. In fact, some of his happiest moments in life _period_ have involved Prince Haruka.

The jolt of feeling causes Makoto to put the sugar back into his satchel. He will eat it eventually. He is simply not ready to…let it go quite yet.

Makoto settles in bed, feeling comfortable enough to sleep. The sudden fatigue weakens Makoto’s barriers, and deep thoughts of the prince float about his head. He wonders where the prince is right now and what he is doing. If he is in his beautiful bedroom eating sugar with a confident smirk on his small, incredibly pretty mouth.

As Makoto drifts off to sleep, he knows that no matter where Prince Haruka is or what he is up to, Makoto would very much love to be with him.

****

The next morning Makoto awakens earlier than usual for an assembly called by Constable Fukui, and he easily gets ready for the day as his Brothers drag their feet, groaning into the washing bowls. Makoto feels more confident in his resolve. Nothing is more important than his job. Nothing can _be_ more important than providing for his family.

“Rebel activity is growing in size,” Constable Fukui says, pacing the assembly room. “We have received word from foot soldiers in other districts that harassment upon the upper class is escalating.”

“How long until it spreads here?” Mikoshiba asks.

“It is possible that this is already the case,” Constable Fukui answers. “There is declaration of rebel gatherings south and-”

“- is this certain?” Makoto asks. It is only after the last syllable comes out that Makoto realizes that he is asking this question out loud. Constable Fukui and Makoto’s Brothers all turn to him.

“Once again, Tachibana?” Constable Fukui says. He scowls at Makoto – the same expression Makoto has been greeted with ever since Prince Haruka berated the constable in Makoto’s honor.

Makoto swallows hard and sits up straighter at the round table, clearing his throat. “I-I ask if this intelligence is secure,” Makoto says. “That there are rebels gathering in the south?”

“It is on good authority, yes,” Constable Fukui answers. “Any other questions?”

Makoto has plenty of questions, in fact. He needs to know on whose authority says there are rebels in the south. He needs to discover if Rin has any part in this mayhem, and what exactly he was doing at the market. Most significantly, Makoto needs to find out if any of this can lead back to him, or if any repercussion will be bestowed upon his family if certain parts about his past are discovered…

“Tachibana?” Constable Fukui asks again.

Makoto looks up from his hands, which he had not noticed he’d been staring at. “No, Constable Fukui,” he says, trying his best to keep his voice steady.

Constable Fukui shakes his head before turning his back to Makoto. “Now, because of the pending threats, you lot have been assigned to patrol the city and make your presence known. Let the citizens know you are there and also the activists.”

“What else is being performed in preparation?” Higa asks.

“If need be, we will administer a lockdown of the castle, putting all of the watchmen inside, and you lot outside,” Constable Fukui explains.

“Would rebels be stupid enough to attack the castle directly?” Mikoshiba asks.

_‘No, Rin is not that stupid. He would never,’_ Makoto thinks to himself.

“I cannot answer that question,” Constable Fukui says. “All I can be sure of is that we will be ready, at all costs. Now, as far as the patrolling regime…”

Makoto does his best to listen to the constable, but all he can really hear is Rin telling him and the prince that they will meet again soon.

Makoto’s stomach pulls into a tight knot. As much as Makoto wants to believe that Rin would not do something so unwise, he honestly doesn’t know what Rin is capable of anymore. Rin being at the market certainly does not help the matter, and when the kingdom first received word about rebel threats, Makoto could not help but think of his once great friend.

Makoto has already pulled his blade out on Rin once. He wonders how long his fortune will last before he is forced to do it again, with true intent upon the blade.

After Constable Fukui adjourns the meeting, the knights file out of the meeting chambers, and Makoto is surprised to find Gentleman Ryugazaki waiting outside the entrance.

“Sir Makoto,” Ryugazaki says at once. “Are you well today?”

“Quite well,” Makoto answers. “Yourself?”

“Fine, thank you,” Ryugazaki politely says. “I was wondering if you would accompany me to my chambers?”

“Certainly,” Makoto says with a grin.

His slight encounters with Rei are always enjoyable. Makoto is endlessly surprised by the gentleman’s courteousness. Of course, it helps that some of Ryugazaki’s small, neat movements - even some of his physical features – remind Makoto of Prince Haruka.

“Joyous,” Ryugazaki says. “There is a development that we need to discuss.”

Makoto’s heart skips a beat as his smile fades. “D-development?”

“Nothing unpleasant, I assure you,” Ryugazaki says, obviously catching Makoto’s brief moment of panic. His mouth twitches in a smile.

Makoto blushes a little, feeling like an idiot. “Lead the way.”

The two walk upstairs and to the same cramped room full of parchment books that Ryugazaki showed Makoto during his portion of orientation.

“Please, sit,” Ryugazaki says, gesturing to a chair.

“Thank you,” Makoto says, sitting down. He is a little startled when Ryugazaki slides a small desk out in front of him and sits down. Makoto suddenly feels as though he is being interrogated as the gentlemen lays parchment and an inkbottle on the desk.

Ryugazaki shifts his spectacles higher on his nose, and he makes a slight adjustment to his already neatly placed black vest. Ryugazaki sits absolutely straight with his hands in his lap and his back off the chair.

“You, um, don’t have to be so proper with me,” Makoto says, Ryugazaki’s posture making his body ache a little. “I may be a knight, but you and I are no different. You, uh, can relax.”

Ryugazaki slightly tilts his head, furrowing his brow. “I always sit this way.”

“O-oh,” Makoto stutters. “My apologizes.” He clears his throat and sits up a little straighter himself, figuring his hunch is obviously offending the gentleman.

“That is quite all right,” Ryugazaki says with a nod. “So, the development we need to discuss is that you have been appointed to be Prince Haruka’s exclusive riding instructor.”

Makoto feels as though he is being kneed in the stomach again – all air leaves his lungs, and he falls into a dizzy spell. He has allowed himself a moment every day to lose himself over the idea of teaching Prince Haruka how to ride, but he has also told himself every time that it probably will never happen.

It is not as if Makoto thought the prince was lying when he made the request. It just seems unbelievable that the prince would _want_ to stick to it.

Ryugazaki appears amused. “You seem surprised. Are you no longer confident in your skills as a rider?”

“N-no,” Makoto says, trying his best to focus and not explode. “Riding is something I do very well, a-and Prince Haruka will be properly trained with me. I-I. I only…”

“Say no more,” Ryugazaki says, nodding as if understanding. “I will admit that I was rather taken aback when Prince Haruka told me his request. We had something arranged for him next spring, but he is _suddenly_ insistent on it now.”

Ryugazaki looks over one of his parchments. “We have a champion steed in transit for the prince, but I am told it will not arrive for a few more days.”

“That is not an issue,” Makoto says, and he cannot believe that he is really talking about this right now – in _real life_ and not one of his daydreams. “While Prince Haruka’s steed is in transit, he can get comfortable on my horse. Orca is very well-mannered.”

Ryugazaki sets down the parchment. “Your horse’s name is Orca?”

Makoto scratches his head, sensing familiarity with the gentleman’s statement. Ryugazaki even stares at him in the same disbelieving way Prince Haruka had upon hearing the name of his steed. Makoto still does not understand why it grants such a reaction.

“Yes, that is his name,” Makoto slowly answers.

“And the prince is aware of this?” Ryugazaki asks. Makoto nods, and Ryugazaki’s mouth twitches another smile. “Interesting,” he says. “Well, I suppose that will work for now.”

Ryugazaki makes a note in his book and scans over other parchments. However, he suddenly stops and scoots closer to the desk, actually putting his hands on the table. He looks straight at Makoto. “Before this arrangement is sealed, I need to say something to you directly.”

“All right,” Makoto says, tensing.

“You seem like a good man,” Ryugazaki says. “However, Sir Makoto, I cannot call myself loyal to Prince Haruka if I do not speak on his behalf. You are correct: you and I are not so different. We may possess different occupations, but we are both working citizens.”

“Yes, I agree,” Makoto says.

“Which means that I have a rapport with the staff of the castle,” Ryugazaki continues in saying. “I converse with them, and they converse with me.”

Makoto shrugs. “I do not follow.”

Ryugazaki sighs, clasping his hands together. “I know of the gathering between the knights and some of the service staff last evening.”

“I wasn’t there – I never go!” Makoto blurts out, sitting completely straight in his chair.

“Yes, as I have heard,” Ryugazaki says, holding up a hand. “All the same, I am aware of some of the pressures you are under as a novice knight, Sir Makoto.” Ryugazaki briefly closes his eyes, and Makoto truly believes that the gentleman does not wish to utter what he is about to say.

“Sir Makoto,” Ryugazaki says, and his tone is nonetheless stern. “I warn you that if this arrangement with the prince is some sort of-”

“-I am not my Brothers,” Makoto interrupts with, deciding to put Ryugazaki out of his misery before this goes any further. “I would never, _ever_ disgrace the prince. I swore to protect Prince Haruka, and that is all I ever plan to do. I-I.”

Makoto gives himself a moment to think about what else he can say to convince Ryugazaki. It hurts to even think about doing something so dishonorable – especially if Makoto is supposed to be teaching the prince how to ride.

All of a sudden, Makoto feels his air leave again, and he actually wants to smile as the realization of his situation begins to sink in – overruling every other emotion.

“I too believe that the prince should learn how to ride,” Makoto says, sincerely meaning every word. “A-and I’ve got a feeling that he actually really _wants_ to learn. That is why I offered my services.”

Makoto cannot stop the wide grin from spreading across his face as he remembers the prince’s satisfied expression upon feeding Orca.

“I have nothing but the upmost respect for Prince Haruka, and for you, Gentleman Ryugazaki,” Makoto says. “You have to take my word.”

Ryugazaki gives Makoto a once-over, but his eyes are softer, which Makoto is relieved to see. “I will, Sir Makoto,” he says, and he sounds sincere. “For now, anyway,” Ryugazaki quickly adds, looking again through his parchment.

Makoto wants to laugh. He has a feeling that Ryugazaki is a lot like Prince Haruka: attempts to act more severe than he really is.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” Makoto says, dipping his head in gratitude.

“The credit does not go to me,” Ryugazaki says. “The very fact that Prince Haruka considers you at all speaks a grand amount indeed.”

Makoto’s heart skips a beat, and he blushes. “That is very kind. I will certainly do my very best.”

Makoto looks down shyly at his boots. He is not sure what the gentleman means, and no one is more confused than Makoto as to why Prince Haruka wants a nonentity such as himself to train him in riding.

Makoto does not wish to question it too closely, however. He enjoys every moment that he even gets a _glimpse_ of the prince – spending entire afternoons with him in the stables will be a living fantasy.

Makoto clears his throat, pulling on the collar of his tunic. He suddenly feels quite hotter than he should, and his feet are mindlessly tapping a bit too erratically in excitement.

Makoto looks up, and he is relieved to see Ryugazaki looking kindly at him – truly kind for the first time since they said hello. “I want to say again that you do seem like a very good man,” Ryugazaki says. “I regret if my interrogation caused you discomfort.”

“It is not a problem,” Makoto says. “I understand. You are protective of Prince Haruka, and you should be.” Makoto smiles. “You two have undoubtedly known each other for a long time, and it is obvious how much you love one another.”

For the first time since meeting Ryugazaki, Makoto watches the gentleman lose a bit of his composure. A deep pink stains Ryugazaki’s cheeks, and his eyes widen to the size of butter wafers.

The gentleman shuffles through his parchment. “Y-yes, well, I am glad we have the situation sorted. I will get this information cleared.”

Ryugazaki stands, as does Makoto, and the gentleman walks him to the door. “You will be notified when training will commence,” Ryugazaki says. “Unless you have any questions for me now?”

A fleeting thought soars through Makoto. With Ryugazaki before him, Makoto briefly considers asking him about options for spectacles. Ryugazaki would obviously have answers, and he seems like a person Makoto can trust.

Makoto opens his mouth, but his better judgment quickly finds him. He has enough liabilities out in the open – now that Prince Haruka knows Rin exists and is familiar with Makoto. There is no possible way Makoto can risk anything else, especially if it will lose him the opportunity to instruct the prince.

Just like with the escorting assignment, Makoto knows that he has to keep his true self hidden in order to be with the prince.

“No. No questions,” Makoto says, shaking his head.

****

Makoto returns to the barracks and changes into simpler, more comfortable clothing. He dresses down to his breeches and a short-sleeved tunic, deciding to keep on his long boots. He knows that he will be summoned when the time comes, but he is far too nervous and excited to wait.

Makoto cannot believe his fortune. He will assist the prince in becoming a better horseman. He will be allowed real time with the prince, and will be able to admire every aspect of the prince’s beauty and grace and unflinching self-confidence.

Makoto sits on his cot, giving himself a moment to breathe and take in what will easily become the greatest thing that has ever happened to him. He smiles and runs a hand through his hair, but his attention suddenly turns to his side table.

Makoto reaches over and picks up the rolled pieces of parchment – the letters from home that he still has not read. He looks around. There is certainly enough light now. He would have no issue making out the words.

Makoto gradually frowns, remembering where he had left off in his father’s letter. His father had just started talking about how Makoto’s mother wasn’t getting better. How her latest bad spell is not letting up.

Makoto looks at the other letter, no doubt from Nagisa. He is sure his cousin has mentioned his adventures with his pottery, but also how he, as always, is happy to help take care of the family during Makoto’s absence.

Makoto’s breath catches in his throat. He misses his family dearly and enjoys each letter he receives from them. However, right now, Makoto doesn’t know if he can handle the burden he will feel reading about his mother, or if he can stomach the guilt that will seep into him whilst reading about Nagisa stepping away from his dreams to fill in for Makoto.

What is worse, even if Makoto can handle it right now, he frankly does not want to at the moment. All Makoto wants to do is get Orca ready. All Makoto needs is to see Prince Haruka’s face and say hello to him to feel…not alone.

Makoto sets the letters down, feeling ashamed for only thinking about himself, but he honestly cannot help it right now. “I’m sorry,” he says aloud to no one as he stands up and exits the barracks, leaving the parchment rolled up and sealed on his bed.

Makoto makes his way to the stables, enjoying the warmth and slight breeze as he crosses the castle property. He strolls through the apple orchards, passing a female servant picking some of the apples.

The young woman sets down her basket and skips to Makoto, her long, thick black braid swinging behind her. She tugs on Makoto’s tunic sleeve, curtsying in her knee-length white dress and smiling.

“Sir Makoto?” she says.

Makoto’s eyes widen. He has never seen this woman before in his life. “Yes?”

“Hello, I’m Nanami,” she says, curtseying again. “I have been meaning to introduce myself.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Makoto says with a bow, trying to be as polite as possible without actually knowing this person.

Nanami giggles and pulls at the bottom of her dress, twirling the edge around her finger. “I was hoping you’d be at the stables last evening. I was looking forward to…getting to know you.”

Makoto blushes. He rubs his neck, chuckling nervously. “O-oh, yes. Well, um, I was busy with practice…”

“I understand,” Nanami says, not really blinking as she stares at him. “I only hope that you will be able to join us next time.” She touches his forearm. “Or maybe you and I can meet alone?”

Makoto blushes so horribly that it hurts, and he feels slightly uneasy as he does his best to politely pull his arm away. If he did not want to go last night, then Makoto most _certainly_ does not want to do anything now – not when he is so close to seeing Prince Haruka again.

“A-actually, I am quite busy,” Makoto says. “I don’t…I don’t think it is a good idea.”

Nanami rolls her eyes. “Oh? Do you not think I’m pretty?” she teases.

Makoto laughs nervously again, wishing he could disappear. He has seen a lot of different types of people since becoming a knight, but the truth is that there has really only been _one_ look that has caught and keeps Makoto’s attention.

Unfortunately for the knight, such a look belongs to Prince Haruka. Anything that isn’t small and strong with luxuriant black hair and strikingly beautiful blue eyes simply does _not_ settle with Makoto.

Of course, Makoto cannot say this to…Nanami – _yes, her name_ – or to anyone for that matter. Makoto should not even admit it too often to himself, in truth. Not only is it highly inappropriate, but it is also a ridiculous standard for a low class person such as himself.

“Well?” Nanami asks.

“Y-yes,” Makoto quickly answers, attempting to clear his mind of fancy black robes and delicate fingers. “Of course you are pretty. I-I simply have things to do. I’m sorry.”

Nanami sighs, twisting the edge of her dress again. “Pity,” she says, looking and sounding exactly like Higa. She holds on to Makoto’s forearms and leans up, softly kissing Makoto’s cheek. “Remember me, all right?”

Nanami lets him go, and Makoto smiles as best he can without dying in embarrassment. “I will,” he lies. Nanami winks at him and walks off, returning to her apple basket.

Makoto exhales longingly and keeps walking – a little faster now – and he wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, feeling a strong need to apologize to the prince for some reason.

When Makoto arrives safely at the stables he releases Orca, riding him around the grounds to get his legs nice and loose. Makoto then feeds his steed and gives him water before applying a nice groom to his thick black hair, making Orca as relaxed as possible before the prince arrives.

“Prince Haruka is coming today,” Makoto says to Orca, patting its neck. “It’ll be fun,” Makoto adds, but more to himself than to Orca. “You will get to see the prince and help him improve his ability. You’ll get to be close to him and make him laugh and…”

Makoto trails off, feeling so excited and relaxed at the same time that he drops the brush. He picks it up, noticing that his hands are shaking horribly. Makoto takes several deep breaths, telling himself to calm down.

This is his chance to show the prince that he can be normal. Makoto will _not_ act embarrassingly in front of the prince – not after how many times the knight humiliated himself at the market.

“This is not even something that matters to him,” Makoto says a loud, in attempt to relax himself. “Prince Haruka at best finds you amusing. He certainly will not be nervous.”

Makoto repeats this mantra to himself as he decides to work instead on Orca’s saddle. He sits out in the grass while Orca grazes in the stables, adjusting the straps and polishing the leather on the saddle.

It is not too long before Makoto hears footsteps crackling the hay. He looks up, choking on his spit as he sees Gentleman Ryugazaki and Prince Haruka making their way over to him.

Makoto can hear his heartbeat in his ears as the prince draws closer and eventually stops before him. Makoto knows that he needs to get up and greet them, but it is difficult to move when Makoto is so taken by what is before him.

Prince Haruka is casually dressed, only wearing breeches, boots and a white tunic. Makoto can instantly tell that the prince is wearing the same cream or oil product that he wore to the market. The prince’s skin has the same soft glow, and Makoto will never forget a smell so incredible. A scent so expensive and important, but still light enough to fall asleep to.

Makoto opens his mouth but nothing comes out. No matter how often he thinks about Prince Haruka, it is never enough preparation for the real thing.

Prince Haruka moves dark, flawless hair out of his face and scoffs, shifting his weight to his other foot. “Are you at least able to stand, Makoto?”

Makoto gasps and shoots to a stand, dropping his saddle and spilling the polish into the grass. “I-I’m so sorry,” Makoto stammers. “Good afternoon Prince Haruka – Gentleman Ryugazaki.”

“Good afternoon,” Ryugazaki says curiously, giving Makoto a once-over as if he can’t believe what he sees. Makoto certainly cannot believe it either – his second chance has already been ruined.

Where were they when Makoto was skillfully riding Orca around the property – not making a fool out of himself at all?

Haru stares vacantly at Makoto. “Afternoon, Makoto.” He gestures to Makoto’s cheek. “You’ve got something on your face.”

Makoto rubs his cheek with the back of his hand, happy to see oil instead of lipstick, but he is still embarrassed that his face is dirty in the front of the prince, regardless.

“Oh – I was working on Orca’s saddle – for you,” Makoto says. “That’s what I was doing. Why I was…in the grass.”

“As I remember,” the prince says. Prince Haruka then briefly shows humor. Makoto can tell by the way the prince’s mouth relaxes, and by the way his eyelashes flutter, just so.

Makoto learned through his adventure at the market with Prince Haruka that it is often not so difficult to read him. The notion both excites the knight and makes him feel rather proud.

Makoto finds himself giggling aimlessly, having no reason to smile and be happy other than being in the prince's presence.

“So,” Ryugazaki says, quite loudly.

Prince Haruka quickly turns to his gentleman, and Makoto is slow to follow. It takes a few extra moments to force his eyes away from the prince.

Ryugazaki is grinning a little himself as he looks between Makoto and Prince Haruka. “Here we _all_ are, I suppose.”

“Right,” Makoto says. He rubs his hands, not knowing what else to do with himself. “H-how did you know that I was already here? I planned to go back to the barracks once I finished getting Orca ready.”

“It is quite interesting, actually,” Ryugazaki says, gesturing to Prince Haruka. “I was going to send word to find you, but the prince had a feeling you would be here.” Ryugazaki smiles, and Prince Haruka narrows his eyes at his gentleman.

Makoto’s stomach twists into a knot, but this time the tightening is not unpleasant. It makes Makoto feel lighter. Makes him feel good.

“Oh?” Makoto asks, and he wishes that his tone was not so soft.

Prince Haruka looks at Makoto, his expression blank and his posture confident. “Yes, I just knew,” he says, casually. “If you have leisure then you are most likely here.”

Makoto’s heart skips a beat again, and the knot in his stomach heats up. He still cannot believe that the prince bothers to remember things about him, and it is astonishing that the prince feels certain enough in his knowledge to act on them.

Makoto honestly does not understand what he did to gain and keep so much of the prince’s attention – or why the prince wants to learn things about him. Makoto knows that he is nothing, but Prince Haruka is a high soaring raven.

“Well, you were definitely right, My Prince,” Makoto says, dipping his head for a small bow. “I’m honored that I am still interesting to you.”

A very faint pink color touches the prince’s ears. He looks away. “Yes, for now,” he mumbles. Makoto stares curiously at him. He has no idea why Prince Haruka would be embarrassed, unless it is a rule to not find the lower class interesting.

“Sir Makoto,” Ryugazaki says, making his presence know again. “Are you prepared now?”

“Yes,” Makoto assures, nodding more times than is probably necessary.

Ryugazaki turns to the prince. “And you? Are you ready?”

Prince Haruka rolls his eyes. “Obviously. I’m here, are I not?”

“All right,” Ryugazaki says, as if he is not really listening. He holds his parchment tightly. “And you have everything you need?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the prince mumbles, his face turning a bit pinker.

“I will retrieve you when it is time to return,” Ryugazaki says to the prince.

“Fine,” Prince Haruka groans, waving a hand. “Leave – now.”

“All right – all right,” Ryugazaki says. “Just be careful and follow the instructions.”

“Leave my sight or you are _banished_!” Prince Haruka snaps, stomping his foot and turning his back to his gentleman.

Ryugazaki holds up his hands in surrender. “Yes, My Prince. I will be going.” He gives Makoto a look. “Sir Makoto?”

“The prince will be just fine,” Makoto says, placing a hand to his chest.

Ryugazaki relaxes only slightly, nodding. “Very well.” He looks at the prince who is still faced away from him. “Enjoy yourself, My Prince.”

Prince Haruka says nothing as Ryugazaki pats his back then quickly scurries away.

“Annoying,” Prince Haruka mumbles, slowly turning back around but not making eye contact with Makoto.

Makoto grins, feeling so taken that he worries his legs might turn into dough. The prince is vaguely pouting, just enough to make him look innocent.

Although Makoto is nervous, and now that they are alone Makoto’s heart feels like it can gallop even faster than Orca, the prince’s slight, spoiled behavior makes the knight not feel so hopeless.

“He merely worries about you,” Makoto says to the prince. “He cares. Wants you to be safe. This can be a dangerous thing.”

“I can worry for myself,” Prince Haruka says, placing a hand on his hip. “He is the younger one, mind you.” Makoto laughs, and the prince smirks. “That means he is also younger than you,” Prince Haruka adds. “I hope you also feel embarrassed.”

“I usually do, My Prince,” Makoto says. “Lately you’ve seen some of my finest moments.”

The prince keeps smirking at Makoto. His long, thick eyelashes slowly batting like butterfly wings, each flap somehow connected to Makoto’s breathing. “Yes,” Prince Haruka says. “It has been quite entertaining.”

Makoto looks away this time, figuring it is best to keep talking. “S-so, this is sooner rather than later, yes?”

“Indeed,” Prince Haruka says.

Makoto scratches his neck. “I have not yet been thrown into confinement. I suppose the sugar is going well?”

It’s Prince Haruka’s turn to look away. “Very,” he simply answers.

Even though it is only one word, there is just enough emotion in it to assure Makoto that his burst of madness at the marketplace was worth it.

“I am glad,” Makoto says. “Have you had a good day so far?”

The prince nods. “Yes. How about yourself?”

Makoto takes a moment before answering. He thinks about how his day has been so far and all the things he could possibly tell the prince. He soon concludes that there is nothing worth sharing. At least nothing that will help the prince’s impression of Makoto.

“Eventful, but all right,” Makoto decides to say. It is not a lie – something Makoto realizes he hates doing and is not good at with the prince – but it also not the complete story. The only part that really matters, however, is that Makoto is all right. Now that he is with the prince again, of course.

“It helps that I get to start teaching you today,” Makoto says out loud, without meaning to. Honesty seems to just come out him when he’s with the prince, and Makoto has no idea why or how the prince has the affect on him.

Prince Haruka’s eyes grow slightly for a moment, but his face otherwise stays still. “I suppose that is a good thing,” he says, offhandedly. “Your company is also respected.”

Makoto feels warmth in his chest – warmth that apparently only comes from Prince Haruka’s compliments. “I appreciate the kind sentiment, My Prince.”

Orca nickers and Prince Haruka turns toward the sound, already looking a little less confident.

“Did your gentleman tell you about the arrangement?” Makoto decides to ask.

Prince Haruka nods. “Yes, will riding him really be all right?” he asks, looking back at Makoto.

Makoto can tell from the slight change in Prince Haruka’s voice, and by the concentration in his gaze that he means his words. Makoto is incredibly humbled for the concern.

“Of course,” Makoto assures. “Orca is a great horse, and he really does like you.”

As Makoto says these things, he knows that he doesn’t just mean it for his steed. Especially looking at Prince Haruka right now and feeling so good – regardless of how rough the past couple of days have been for him.

Prince Haruka moves hair out of his face again, and he holds his hands in front of him. “Well, it is very nice to see Orca again.”

So much emotion gets wrapped up in Makoto’s chest, and for a moment it is too hard to breathe. Everyone who meets Orca adores him, so it makes sense. Makoto only wishes that the prince would think it was nice to see him again too.

“Shall we begin?” Makoto asks, feeling distracted. Haru only nods, seeming a little distant in his thoughts as well. “Follow me, My Prince.” Makoto begins walking over to Orca, and Prince Haruka follows next to him, saying nothing and keeping his gaze forward.

When they get into the stables, Makoto gestures to the stool next to Orca. “My Prince?” Makoto says. Prince Haruka gracefully sits on the stool and keeps his hands in his lap, just as he had the last time. The prince looks up at Makoto nonchalantly, as if completely unaware of how gorgeous he is.

Prince Haruka sniffles, crinkling his nose and looking incredibly adorable as he does so. “It is relieving to know that smells always stay the same.”

Makoto giggles. “You will be riding soon, Prince Haruka. Embrace the odor now.”

“Charmed,” Prince Haruka sarcastically says. “So, what is your plan for me?”

Makoto’s ears burn. “W-well,” he says, rubbing his neck. “First, I want you to get familiar with Orca. Learn the different reactions of a horse.”

“Reactions?” Prince Haruka asks.

“Yes, My Prince,” Makoto says, nodding. “Horses can be just as temperamental as people. Being able to understand a horse makes you a better rider.”

Prince Haruka looks skeptical. “All right. How do I do that?”

“With Orca we can do something that you’ve already had a bit a practice in,” Makoto says, grinning.

Prince Haruka gives Orca a once-over, obviously understanding. “Groom?”

“It really does help,” Makoto assures. “And during it I will talk you through the different parts of the horse, and teach you about the saddle while you’re right up close to it.”

“I am not completely thick, just so you are aware,” Prince Haruka says, looking mildly offended.

Makoto snickers through his nose, already knowing that the prince’s word to listen to him will eventually get tested. “Yes, Prince Haruka, I am very aware,” Makoto calmly says. “I merely want to cover everything. I am responsible for you, and I want to make sure that I do the best I can. So _you_ can learn the very best that you can.”

Prince Haruka sighs and keeps his gaze on Makoto, like he is trying to read him. Makoto continues his gaze on the prince, allowing him to see what he needs to see.

“All right,” Prince Haruka finally says. He gets up and walks over to Makoto and Orca, holding out his hand. “Where is the brush? And what is this mysterious trinket you call a saddle?”

Makoto laughs and relaxes completely for the first time, retrieving the brush for the prince.

As Prince Haruka grooms Orca, Makoto explains the proper use of the saddle and how to work the reigns. He gets on Orca several times, demonstrating the proper technique. Makoto also shows the different muscles of the horse and which ones strain the most when performing certain guiding moves.

Makoto talks freely and confidently, for riding is one of the very few areas he feels entirely comfortable in. However, he is also quite nervous as he instructs the prince, stumbling over words as Prince Haruka’s massive blue eyes stay fixated on him, taking in every instruction as if it means something to him.

Makoto does not feel completely in his body, and the parts that do stick around keep prickling with strong, satisfying feelings.

“Meaning, the kicking I always see…?” Prince Haruka questions as he feeds Orca an apple. His other small hand rubs Orca’s neck.

Makoto’s heart flutters, just as it has all afternoon at such a sight. “No, I do not endorse the practice. There are plenty of ways to command your steed without hurting it.”

The prince nods, wiping his hands on his breeches. He is sweating a bit under the sun, but it somehow looks elegant on him. “Good,” Prince Haruka says. “I have honestly never been very interested in such a thing anyway.”

“I am relieved to hear this,” Makoto says. He buffs his forehead with his back of his hand, wondering what other theories he can possibly tell Prince Haruka today. The prince is incredibly quick-minded and has a good memory. He could most likely recite Makoto’s riding instructions better than Makoto himself.

“I have an idea,” Makoto suddenly says, smiling widely.

Prince Haruka picks up Makoto's change in mood, tensing a little and looking skeptical. “Yes?”

Makoto crosses his arms over his chest and looks between Prince Haruka and Orca, exhaling and nodding in his resolve. “I think you should get up on Orca. Get a feel of the saddle.”

Prince Haruka’s eyes widen, and he immediately takes a step back, holding up a hand. “That will not be required today,” he says. “I am only here to get an overview.”

“Actually, I think it is important that you get on at least once today,” Makoto says. “I can explain everything to you, but it is no substitute for experience.”

“No,” Prince Haruka retorts. “I think I should have a bit of time to put everything together.”

Makoto sighs. “My Prince, with all due respect, I think I am a bit more knowledgeable in this area.”

Prince Haruka rolls his eyes. “And I’m sure that _I_ am more knowledgeable in what I am capable of doing at the given time. I do not think nor want to get on the horse today.”

Makoto gapes at Prince Haruka in mild confusion, but it does not take too much digging through the prince’s tough exterior to see what is truly there. Soon, Makoto can easily tell that the prince is merely scared.

“Understandable, My Prince,” Makoto says as kindly as he can. “However, I could have sworn that you said you would listen to my instruction.”

“I am,” Prince Haruka mutters, looking away. “I simply do not see the point in rushing anything.”

“It is not a rush, My Prince. I…” Makoto trails off. He pats Orca’s head and takes a step toward the prince, Makoto’s breathing instantly changing as he gets close enough to reach out and touch him.

Prince Haruka takes a small step back, but he keeps his eyes on Makoto, and Makoto catches the prince briefly biting the corner of his lip.

“My Prince?” Makoto asks.

“Yes?” Prince Haruka softly says.

Makoto takes a moment to figure out his words. He is startled by how intense the moment between them has become, but he will not let his personal feelings get in the way of his duty to the prince.

“You did not listen to me when I told you to stay put at the market, and that was for your own good,” Makoto finally says. “Well, now, I am telling you something else that I think you should listen to, and I am hoping that you will do it.”

Prince Haruka’s stance softens a little, and he slowly blinks. “I…I do want to listen, Makoto. I merely do not know if this is a good idea.”

“You don’t have to scared,” Makoto assures.

“I am _not_ scared,” Prince Haruka declares.

“Or anxious or concerned – whatever,” Makoto quickly adds. “Orca won’t hurt you, and I am right here. Trust me, Prince Haruka. I will not let anything bad happen to you. Not here in the stables…or anywhere.”

Prince Haruka’s exterior completely softens now. His blue eyes seem to search Makoto, and once more Makoto lets the prince inside himself. Makoto has no other choice.

“All right,” Prince Haruka eventually says. He rolls back his shoulders and moves hair out of his face.

“R-really?” Makoto asks, fairly surprised that it won’t take more rounds of persuasion to convince the more-than-stubborn prince.

Prince Haruka rolls his eyes. “It helps if you don’t act so surprised, Makoto. Makes your few moments of authority over me seem more authentic.”

Makoto blushes, giggling. “I am very new to this, My Prince.”

“Clearly,” Prince Haruka says with a slight smirk. “Well, how should I do this?”

“O-oh, well, um…” Makoto trails off, scratching his head. “You will want to secure your foot into the hook as I showed you and lift up with the mount.”

Prince Haruka examines the foot hook, eying the mount next. He puts a finger to his chin. “Hm. This approach will work easily for me? Considering our slight height difference?”

“Yes, it takes a bit of a pull, but you should be all right,” Makoto answers.

“Should be?” Prince Haruka questions.

“ _Will_ be,” Makoto quickly corrects.

Prince Haruka exhales deeply. “Fine.”

The prince rubs his hands together and gradually walks up to Orca. Makoto suddenly feels a strong urge to help lift up the prince, but he keeps the feeling at bay. He is not sure if he is allowed to help in such a way, and the last thing Makoto wants to do is overstep his boundary.

“You got it,” Makoto say, deciding words are better suited for the situation.

Prince Haruka raises his foot and slips his boot into the hook. He reaches for the mount on top of Orca’s saddle, but it is clear from the first pull that the prince will not be able to lift himself.

Orca nickers as Prince Haruka lifts up, but he cannot keep his hold and stumbles back to the ground.

“ _Makoto_!” Prince Haruka groans, stomping his foot.

“I am sorry, My Prince!” Makoto says, trying his best not to laugh at such a sweet scene. He also wants to reach out and help stabilize the prince, but he decides against the idea.

The prince’s face flushes with color, and he points out his chin. “I knew this would not work.”

“No – no, it’s not that,” Makoto assures. “It is really my mistake. You’re right, My Prince. This is not a good approach, not yet.”

“Does that mean this is over?” Prince Haruka asks, frowning and resting his hands on his hips.

“No, it just means that you will have to get up on Orca another way,” Makoto says.

Prince Haruka scoffs. “How? By catapult?”

Makoto laughs a little, not being able to help himself with how cute and frustrated Prince Haruka is at the moment. “Actually, what I have in mind is probably something you will enjoy even less.”

Makoto grabs the stool, setting it in front of the prince.

Prince Haruka merely eyes it for a moment before shaking his head and looking up at Makoto. “You cannot be serious.”

“Once again, I am,” Makoto says.

The prince sighs. “This is annoying – and ridiculous.”

“It is also the only way until you are comfortable with the lift,” Makoto says.

Prince Haruka peers around as if some other answer will catch his eye, and Makoto patiently waits for him to concede.

Eventually, as Makoto expected, Prince Haruka sighs again in frustration. “ _All right_!” he mutters.

Makoto pleasantly grins, slowly extending out his hand. “Is it proper to do this now? We are not at a carriage.”

Prince Haruka actually laughs a little, and he seems to calm down. He stares at Makoto’s hand for a moment. “Y-yes, thank you.”

Prince Haruka takes Makoto’s hand, and Makoto helps hoist him on top of the stool. Makoto’s heart skips several beats as their fingers connect – something that has not happened since Makoto’s knighting ceremony.

Makoto is briefly able to embrace how soft, warm, and delicate Prince Haruka’s hand feels, and Makoto hates how his own huge, sweaty, calloused palm ruins the moment.

Makoto reluctantly lets the prince go once he swings his leg over Orca and sits on the saddle, immediately gripping the mount.

Orca nickers and moves a bit as foreign weight sits on him, but the steed stays calm. Makoto rubs Orca’s side Prince Haruka gets comfortable.

The prince looks down at Makoto, all the color in his face drained and his blue eyes the size of the ocean. The prince’s body is so stiff and unsure on the horse; a posture Makoto has not encountered with the prince before today.

“A-am I doing this right?” Prince Haruka asks, in a voice that is clearly unnatural to him. “Is Orca all right with this?”

Makoto knows that he needs to reassure the prince that Orca is indeed fine, and that the prince is sitting on the saddle just as Makoto instructed. However, Makoto has no words as he stares up at Prince Haruka on his steed, looking as beautiful as Makoto has ever seen him – or anything.

Makoto is completely beside himself with the vision before him, and he does not feel like this can be real – things like this simply do not happen to him.

“You’re… _perfect_ ,” Makoto breathes before he can stop himself, and he means the word sincerely.

Prince Haruka smiles gorgeously at him, and Makoto grins right back. What he feels right now is probably what he should have felt with the girl from the orchards, or even from Higa’s offer last night, and it is incredible because all the prince is doing is sitting on Makoto’s steed, smiling proudly at him.

It may be simple, offhand, and one-way, but it feels so good – so much better than anything Makoto has felt before.

Makoto tells himself that this is worth it. It’s worth having complicated, uncomfortable days if it means that in trade he gets moments like this. Moments where he feels like he is not even himself – merely his soul living in another person’s body – another person’s world.

Makoto may be a knight, and he may be a Tachibana, but right now all Makoto cares to be is Prince Haruka’s riding instructor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think it's enough anymore to say that I LOVE Makoto lol. He's such a complex person and is deliciously true. *dreamy sighs*


	6. A Family Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Then what is he to you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI AND HELLO! I'm here again! (stumbles over and cracks ribs) I swear one of these days my life will just shake itself from all the crap keeping me from doing what I love lol 
> 
> Anyway, this is the last chapter of what I'm calling 'Part 1' of this story. After this things really start moving forward as I feel the last of the exposition is finally complete. I plan to have the next chapter up very soon. Like really, really soon lol

“You have to be more vigilant at night,” Makoto says, leading the horses back into the stables by their reigns. “Horses scare quite easily, and at night their temperament can be a bit more irritable.”

Haru nods, wanting to wipe the sweat from his brow, but he keeps his composure. He doesn’t want the knight to notice how tired and sore and slightly overwhelmed he feels.

Makoto guides Orca into its quarter, patting Orca’s neck and talking sweetly to it as Makoto strips his steed of his reigns and saddle. Haru follows Makoto’s lead exactly, and Haru opens his mouth to say something endearing, but he does not have any soothing words for his steed.

Haru has had Raven for a few days now, but whatever connection he is supposed to have with it has yet to present itself.

“It’s all right,” Makoto says.

Haru turns around. “Pardon?”

Makoto walks over to him, not looking exhausted in the slightest, which vaguely annoys the prince. “It is all right if you are not comfortable with Raven yet.”

“I never said that,” Haru says.

“You don’t have to,” Makoto answers. “I can see it all over your face and in the way you handle him.”

“Are you implying that I am not doing this correctly?” Haru asks.

Makoto laughs a little. “Not at all, My Prince. You’re learning quite fast which does not surprise me, but you cannot force a connection with him. It will come in time.”

Makoto pats Raven on its side, and Haru swears that his steed relaxes. “You two have to learn to trust each other,” Makoto says. “He is just as new to you as you are to him.”

Haru looks away, patting his foot. “He is supposed to be a champion steed.”

“And he is,” Makoto assures. “Raven is a very well conditioned horse, but that does not mean that he will automatically open up to you. You have to give in as well, My Prince, which doesn’t seem to come easy to you.”

Haru scoffs, walking out of the stables and into the fresh, cool air of the night. He sits on his stool and moves hair out of his face, feeling more annoyed.

Makoto comes out a few moments later, rubbing his neck. The only real light comes from the burning torches placed around the stables, but Haru can easily see how apologetic Makoto looks.

“I’m sorry, Prince Haruka, that was out of place,” Makoto says.

“It was,” Haru mutters.

Makoto flops down on the ground next to him. “I did not mean to offend you. You really are doing excellent for a novice.”

“You do not have to coddle me, Makoto,” Haru says. He shifts in his seat, looking back at the stables. “Also, there may be a small amount of truth to what you said. I thought…”

“This would be easy?” Makoto asks. Haru doesn’t say anything, knowing that he does not have to. Makoto keeps looking at Haru and eventually nods. “If it means anything, I was absolutely dreadful when I first got Orca.”

“I seriously disbelieve that,” Haru says, rolling his eyes. “You are practically a horse god.”

Makoto’s breath hitches, and even in the dark Haru can tell that he is blushing. Haru feels fire on his neck as well; surprised that he said such words out loud. Haru blames Makoto completely. The knight is just so easy to talk to – far to easy, actually.

“W-well, My Prince…” Makoto begins.

“If you tell anyone I said that you’re banished,” Haru says at once.

Makoto’s eyes widen for a moment, but he soon begins to giggle, shaking his head. “I would not dream of it, My Prince, but, um, thank you. I have never received such a compliment from a prince before.”

“And you never will again if you keep looking at me like that,” Haru tries to say as aggressively as possible, although he feels an annoying smile trying to fight its way through.

Makoto relaxes his mouth, his eyes dancing in the firelight. He looks away from the prince and up into the night’s sky. Haru joins him, slightly swaying his feet.

Neither speaks, but Haru doesn’t mind. Over the past week of training with Makoto, they have somehow found time to have moments like this – silent, comfortable pockets of time where they just sit together, doing nothing but simply _being_ in the same space.

Haru is not sure why they do this, and he reluctantly lets himself understand that this is his favorite part regardless. Haru takes a peek at Makoto, who seems completely content, maybe even happy, and Haru wonders if this is the knight’s favorite part as well.

“Pardon me?” Rei’s voice says.

Haru turns his head, feeling vaguely startled as he sees his gentleman by the fence holding up a lantern. Haru has no idea how he did not notice him, but a small voice tells him that it is because he was too preoccupied thinking about the knight.

Makoto immediately stands, and Haru follows suit, albeit reluctantly.

“Gentleman Ryugazaki,” Makoto says, brushing hay and grass off his breeches.

“Good evening,” Rei says, walking closer. “I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all,” Makoto says. “We were just finishing the lesson.”

Rei nods, looking between them. “Yes, that is definitely apparent.”

“Do you require something?” Haru asks, deciding to silence Rei before the man can say anything cheeky. He ignores Rei’s slight smirk.

“Yes. I have come to retrieve you, Prince Haruka,” Rei says. “The king has just returned, and he would like to see you immediately. So, Sir Makoto, if you will excuse us?”

“Of course, take him,” Makoto says, bowing and holding out his hand.

Haru looks between Rei and Makoto, wondering if they have temporarily forgotten that he is present in front of them.

“Pardon,” Haru says, rather loudly. “But what does my father wish of me?”

“I am sure he will tell you himself, My Prince,” Rei says. “And we really should be going.”

“Do not let me stop you,” Makoto says. “I should return to my quarters as well.” Makoto smiles at Haru. “You did very well tonight,” he says. Makoto then looks at Rei. “It will not be too long before Prince Haruka is indeed a horse god.”

Haru faintly gasps and glares at Makoto, wanting to hit him with something to wipe the teasing, adorably smug grin off his face.

“I suppose that is good to hear,” Rei says slowly, picking up on Haru’s attitude.

“Fair well, Knight Tachibana,” Haru mutters.

Makoto bows. “An honor as always, My Prince. Tomorrow?”

“I suppose,” Haru says, pretending to be interested in his nails. “Maybe.”

“The prince will definitely be here tomorrow,” Rei says, pulling on Haru’s arm. “Have a good night, Sir Makoto.”

“And to you,” Makoto says, waving unnecessarily.

Haru gives Makoto one more look over his shoulder before letting Rei lead him back to the castle.

When they return inside, Rei surprisingly does not lead Haru to his parents’ chambers but instead to a conference room, where Haru’s father is waiting outside the closed doors, appearing tired with dark circles under his blue eyes and filth on his sleek black robes.

“Haruka,” the king says, nodding to Haru, his expression not changing in the slightest.

Haru gives a small bow, returning the lack of sentiment to the king. Even if his father is absent for weeks or months at a time, Haru never expects any sort of affection upon his return. Haru stopped hoping for such a thing back when he was still a small child.

“My King,” Haru says. “I was told that you requested me?”

“Yes,” Haru’s father says. He waves a hand rudely at Rei. “Leave us.”

“Yes, My King,” Rei says, bowing to Haru’s father before quickly leaving.

Haru sighs, looking away. “I thought you said that you would not excuse him like that anymore?”

“Perhaps I forgot,” the king breathes, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “No matter, it is not important. What is important is that in this room are many important figures I want you to meet. They have accompanied me back here, and you need to be exposed to them.”

“Father, I do not think-”

“- it is the perfect time,” Haru’s father says, gripping Haru’s upper arm very tightly. “Now do as you are told. Hm?”

The king does not give Haru time to respond or do anything for he opens the door, nearly pushing Haru into the room where a dozen or so men surround the round table. Dukes, knights, court officials, and other men of power immediately stand up, bowing to Haru all at the same time.

“Gentleman, my son, Prince Haruka,” the king says, finally letting Haru go. The men greet Haru in unison, and the monotone of their collective voices sounds almost demonic.

“Good evening,” Haru tries to say as steadily and politely as possible.

The king gestures for Haru to sit down. Haru takes his seat, and his father sits next to him, keeping what feels like a watchful eye on Haru the entire time each table member introduces himself, telling Haru their rank and how they will be important members to Haru’s future order.

Haru listens with every ounce of his attention, answering their questions and asking his own in all the ways Haru knows his father expects of him.

However, during the duration of the meeting Haru cannot help but notice his personal smell – earth and sweat and horse. Haru has never had this blended scent attached to him, yet every day he trains it becomes more of a part of him.

It is completely silly and utterly random, but somehow the new familiarity keeps Haru calm during the meeting. Makes him feel… _safe_ for some unknown reason.

After Haru is at last released from congress, he goes straight to his chambers, stripping himself of his damp clothes and collapsing to the rug on the floor. He takes several deep breaths and massages his temples, trying to relieve the headache he obtained shortly after the third round of discussion.

Haru begins stretching to help speed along the revival process, bending his aching muscles and flexing his back, tender thighs, and rather sore backside. Haru did not realize how taxing horse riding would be on his body – which he always thought was in perfect condition. Nevertheless, it does explain how a man like Makoto got to be so physically fit, so strong and incredibly solid…

Haru scoffs and puts his hands over his face. He still cannot believe that he called the knight a horse god – it easily being the most ludicrous and embarrassing thing Haru has ever uttered out loud.

Haru pulls his underwear back on and decides to think about something else. He goes over to his canvas and sits at his painting station. It’s late, but the last thing Haru wants to do is fight for sleep with a throbbing headache.

Haru picks up a brush, and the blank, white cloth of the canvas mocks him. Haru finds himself selecting blue paint. He doesn’t know what he is going to create with it, but somehow he knows what the subject matter will involve.

Haru begins brushing blue strokes on the canvas, and he relaxes, smirking as a shape starts to take form.

Haru’s headache slowly begins to subside the more a picture comes to life.

~~~~

“Boggled.”

“Pardon?” Haru asks. He stops running cold bathwater over his forearms to crane back his neck and stare at the entrance to his bathing chamber.

“That is the word I have been grasping for all morning: Boggled,” Rei says from the other side of the drapery. “It is the only term that can express my feelings for when I arrived this morning to find you already in your bath.”

Haru faces forward again, rolling his eyes. “I apologize that a chambermaid preformed what is apparently your most sacred duty this morning.”

“Clever theory, My Prince,” Rei says, “but I do believe that we both know you being conscious at this time is as rare as a full moon.”

Haru grins a little, running water over his arms once more. “I have no problem awaking at any hour. What is truly rare is having a reason to arise at such a time, but now I posses one.”

“Ah, yes, Sir Makoto?” Rei asks.

Haru opens his mouth to instantly correct his gentleman, but for some reason he cannot utter the words.

Haru sighs heavily in boredom, lightly kicking his feet in the water. “Is a scrutiny of my character all you wanted?”

There is a pause before Rei answers. “No,” Rei says. “I wish to speak with you about your plans this morning.”

“Not like this you will not,” Haru says. “If you have bad news, you will have to tell me to my face.”

Rei faintly laughs. “It is not bad news, and I would also like to go at least one day without you making me compromise my position.”

“It is not a compromise if your prince commands it – which I am,” Haru says.

Rei grumbles for a few moments then gradually comes from behind the drapery, holding a drying cloth over each forearm. He clears his throat and keeps his eyes averted from Haru as he stands against the wall opposite the bath.

The hassle is quite ridiculous and somewhat annoying, considering Rei dresses Haru from head to toe more often than not, but Haru appreciates Rei’s chivalric manner nonetheless.

“Does this satisfy you, My Prince?” Rei asks. Haru nods, gesturing for Rei to continue speaking.

“As I said earlier, it is not bad news,” Rei says. “The king and queen simply want to have breakfast with you before your training today.”

“My father wants to breakfast with me instead of debriefing his army?” Haru asks. “It must be serious. Is it another meeting?”

Rei shakes his head. “I have no further information. I was only told to make sure you arrive.”

Haru narrows his eyes, nodding as he looks away, wondering what is really going on – again.

“Now, if it is all right with you, I would very much like to leave you be,” Rei says, folding the towels over the rim of Haru’s bath. “I will return when it is time for your lesson.”

“I do not require you to escort me every time,” Haru says.

Rei’s cheeks turn pink, and he adjusts his glasses as he momentarily looks away from Haru. “It is my job to stay by your side, and it is not something I mind doing,” Rei says. “Besides, I thoroughly enjoy watching your transformation before my very own eyes.”

“Transformation?” Haru asks.

Rei smiles. “From the moment you wake up until we reach our destination and are greeted by Sir Makoto, you go through a process – you blossom, Haru. Grow and transform, like a beautiful butterfly.”

“Leave my sights!” Haru declares, his entire body heating up even in the cold bathwater.

Rei bursts out an arrogant guffaw into his hands as he bows, then leaps out of the way of Haru’s attempted water splashing before leaving the chamber.

Haru takes a deep breath and slides completely under the water, muffling the sounds of Rei’s idiocy and attempting to cool off. In spite of this, when Haru emerges again his body still feels hot.

~~~~

Haru picks at his morning fruit, wondering why he bothers to do this every time.

“I am sure he will be here soon,” Haru’s mother says from across the table.

Haru looks up at her. “Whatever this meeting is for clearly is not as pressing as my gentleman lead me to believe. I could very well be at my lesson.”

The queen sets down her teacup. “Right. Your lessons.”

Haru vaguely frowns, and before he has time to respond to his mother, his father hurriedly comes into the room; his dark blue robes flowing behind him.

“Sorry, My Love,” Haru’s father says to the queen, kissing her cheek before taking his seat at the head of the table. He looks to Haru, nodding. “Glad you could join us.”

“I usually show up when someone expects me,” Haru says, coolly.

“Haruka,” his mother says.

The king holds up a hand. “I am far too exhausted to entertain my son’s insolence. I will simply proceed with caution as long as the prince agrees.”

“Agreed,” Haru answers.

“So,” the queen says, overly-politely, obviously sensing the tension. “I hear you made quite an impression last night, Haruka. I am relieved of this news.”

“He has all the makings of an excellent delegator,” Haru’s father says.

“My thanks,” Haru says, dipping his head. “It is my duty to be impressive.”

“Yes, it is,” the king says, slowly cutting into his bread. “Quite curious, though, when I first arrived I assumed you would be in your chambers. You can understand my astonish when your mother told me that you were at your riding lesson.”

“Yes, I need to become as comfortable riding at night as I do during the day,” Haru explains.

“I concur,” Haru’s father says, looking at Haru curiously. “I am simply surprised that you have personally decided to take up training now. Your mother also tells me that you have elected one of my newly appointed knights as your trainer.”

Haru stops picking at his food, giving all of his attention to his father. They have the same eyes – same expressions, so Haru knows that his father is digging for something. What Haru does not understand is why this is happening right now at breakfast.

“Yes, I have,” Haru says, slowly. “Is this a problem?”

The king’s expression hardens, and he looks to the queen. Haru’s mother gives the king a quick glance as if reading his mind before turning back to Haru.

“Haruka, that is a matter that we would like to discuss with you,” the queen says.

“What matter?” Haru asks, his heart skipping a beat.

“It is about your training,” Haru’s mother says. “Now that your father has returned, I can say that I was very surprised when I received word of your request. Especially since you desired the same knight who escorted you to the market recently.”

Haru hears a faint buzzing in his ears, and the little bit of food he ingested feels like a pile of stones in his stomach.

“And?” Haru asks, in a voice softer than it should be.

“And it is curious that this particular knight – Knight Tachibana – has been brought into conversation in regards to you twice within such a short amount of time,” Haru’s mother explains.

“Yes, My Queen,” Haru answers. “Am I in some sort of trouble for this?”

“No,” the queen says, tenderly, looking almost remorseful. “Your father and I are simply concerned.”

“You have no reason to be,” Haru says, shaking his head. “Everything is completely professional.”

“It certainly better be,” the king says, urgently.

“Dear,” Haru’s mother says, turning to the king.

Haru is speechless as he looks between his parents, not understanding what is going on. Rarely does his mother ever insert herself into Haru’s affairs, and never does his father care about what Haru is up to unless it involves the Nanase glory.

“I am not sure what is going on here,” Haru says in truth. “I did everything I was supposed to do last night during congress. What trouble have I caused, and what does this have to do with...my training?”

“Not necessarily your training, but the trainer himself,” the king says. “I was unaware of who your gentleman submitted-”

“ - my gentleman did nothing wrong,” Haru interrupts. “He did as I instructed him to do.”

“Precisely my point, Haruka,” the king says, sharply. “Are you even aware of this young man’s origin?”

Haru slowly blinks. “His origin?”

Haru’s parents look to each other once more. Haru’s mother nods, and his father lightly sighs.

“Haruka,” the king begins. “There are two types of knights in my kingdom – sons who come from wealthy bloodlines, like the ones you met last evening and encounter most often. Then, there are also poor, common soldiers who worked the manual labor hard enough and showed great promise. This young man, Tachibana, falls into the second category.”

Haru balls his fists under the table and curls his toes, but he keeps his expression vacant. “What is that supposed to mean?” Haru asks. “What are you two trying to say with all this – this ambush of information?”

“Haruka,” the queen says. “I realize this is difficult, but as I said your father and I are concerned that-”

“- that you are forgetting the order of operation. How you have to perceive others now that you are of age,” Haru’s father says. “I knight commoner soldiers because yes, they are assets as well, but it is also important for the Nanase regime to show that we are unbiased when it comes to protecting this land, so we are not revolted against.”

Haru’s breath catches in his throat, and the buzzing in his ears grows louder. “A-are you saying that Knight Tachibana is only here for political strategy?”

The king scoffs, waving a hand. “I would not dare lay my sword on a man who does not deserve to take the oath, but you are older now and it is time that you understand that, _yes_ , sometimes you have to make certain choices to keep the people in line.”

Haru shakes his head in amazement, mildly jabbing his food with his fork. “Either way, I still do not understand what any of this has to do with me.”

“Then I will make it clear for you,” the king says, raising his voice. “From what I have gathered you are spending an awful lot of time with Tachibana now that he is your instructor, and I do not know if this is the best thing for you.”

“Excuse me?” Haru asks, utterly flabbergasted.

Haru’s heart starts beating harder in his chest, and he does not know if he is more astounded or embarrassed or enraged. The words coming from his parents’ mouths do not make any sense to him – they _can’t_ make any sense.

“Sweetheart, he is not even an elected horse master,” the queen says in almost a whisper, but her gentle voice pangs Haru just the same. “In our arsenal are men who have taught horse riding for decades. You are aware of this, Haruka.”

Haru doesn’t know what to say. Having this conversation with Rei was so much easier because Haru did not need to explain himself. However, with the king and queen Haru has no choice. He is forced to speak.

“I do not see how that matters,” Haru finally says. “How any of this pertains to me.”

“It matters as long as you are a Nanase,” Haru’s father says. “This Tachibana is apparently the same knight Constable Fuki said you were defending when you disrespected him. Don’t think he did not tell me about your little fit.”

“I disrespected _him_?” Haru says in a louder voice. “I’m sorry – does Fuki work for us or do we work for him?”

“Haruka,” the queen says, calmly. “You know the constable’s place in your father’s order. You have no right to throw your stature at him when he is training his soldiers.”

“More importantly,” the king adds, “it is not your place to interfere with my knights’ training, or dabble into the affairs of our help.”

“I will not be present for this any longer,” Haru says, shooting up from his chair.

“You will sit down and do as you are told, Prince Haruka!” Haru’s father says boisterously, slamming his fist on the table. “Do you understand me?”

Haru swallows hard and sits down again, folding his shaky hands into his lap. “Yes, My King. My apologizes.”

“That is better,” Haru’s father says, returning to calm. “You certainly have grown a mouth on you, Son.”

“Perhaps we should move on, My King?” Haru’s mother suggests. “We have more pressing matters currently to discuss.”

The king sighs and begins buttering his bread. “Very well,” he says, deeply. “Now, Haruka, the _main_ reason your mother and I want to talk to you is because during my travels I encountered numerous monarchs.”

“Very pleasant people,” Haru’s mother adds.

“Yes, and through my interactions I have made it so that several potential daughters from the finest families in our distract will be attending our masquerade,” the king explains, looking pleased with himself. “I want you to prepare for their arrival.”

“Potential daughters?” Haru asks.

“Correct. A couple from the men you were introduced to last night, actually, and the ball will be a great time to meet them,” the king says.

“Meet them for what?” Haru asks. “I thought this party was for Prince Kisumi.”

“It is,” the queen says, “but Haruka, you are of age now. It is time to start thinking about suitors, and it is important to meet as many potentials as possible.”

Haru cannot help but let his jaw drop a little. He still feels so bombarded by his parents’ assessment of Makoto, and he does not know if he can take this on as well right now.

“But…I am not looking to marry right away just because I am an adult,” Haru says. “I am a son, so I thought I earned that right. This is…this is absurd.”

“No, Haruka, this is business,” the king corrects. “It is the way things are around here and have been for centuries.”

“But why now?” Haru asks. “I…I am not even a proficient horse rider, and yet you want me to start pursuing a wife?”

“Once again you bring up your training,” the king says, shaking his head.

“My king…” Haru’s mother begins.

“No,” Haru’s father says, holding up his hand to Haru’s mother. “I have truly never seen my son so committed to something before. Most of the time I have to force him to attend my meetings. Last night I literally had to drag this boy into congress, but training with the commoner knight is something he does without question?”

The king whips his head in Haru’s direction. “Why is that, Prince Haruka?”

Both of Haru’s parents look at him, waiting for a response, but Haru’s throat feels brutally dry. He does not have an answer for his parents anymore than he does for Rei, Makoto, or even himself. Haru stays silent, losing the battle and looking down at his food.

“Well, it will soon stop,” the king demands. “Acting like a child and playing with the help is something you will no longer be allowed to do.”

“My King…” Haru’s mother says.

Haru gets up from the table this time, stumbling a bit. “I have lost my appetite, and I will excuse myself.”

“Haruka,” the queen breathes.

“Haruka!” the king calls.

Haru does not answer. He leaves the table and storms out of the room, not stopping or even taking a breath until he collides into Rei.

“My Prince!” Rei says, taking a step back and dipping his head. “I am sorry. I was just coming to retrieve you. I…” Rei trails off, adjusting his frames higher on his nose. “Are you all right?”

Haru is not sure of what he is, but he has to get out into the fresh air before he hurls sick all over his gentleman. “Give me a moment of time before you undoubtedly come after me.”

“Haru-”

“Please?” Haru asks.

Rei gives Haru quick, concerned once-over. “As you wish. Where are you headed?”

“The reservoir,” Haru says, hurrying past Rei without another word.

Haru leaves the castle and walks out into the courtyard, keeps walking without stopping or acknowledging anyone he passes. Haru’s legs wobble and a giant boulder of unknowing fear rolls down his spine.

Haru reaches the reservoir, and he instantly kicks off his boots, rolls up his breeches, and sits on the edge of the structure, placing his legs into the cold, calming waters.

Haru closes his eyes as he shivers, letting the water flow over his skin, helping his muscles to relax and his mind to stop racing so fast. Haru stares into the glistening water, not knowing what to do. He knows he will be punished for disrespecting his parents, but that is the very least of his concerns.

Haru is not sure as to which part of his parents’ lecture to react to first, but the sinking feeling of dread over his parents’ personal assessment of Makoto hits him the hardest.

It is not as if Haru is completely naive. He more than understands his family’s philosophy when it comes to interacting with class, but hearing such things feels different this time. It _is_ different this time. It is not just a servant or a lower-class citizen that his parents are chastising – but _Makoto_.

Haru moves his legs in the water, wishing he could tell his parents how wrong they are – how money and status does not make a man a gentleman, but he knows that he can’t, and even if he could – it would not matter.

Haru closes his eyes again, thinking about the suitors and “acceptable” dukes and knights that his parents do not mind Haru interacting with. Haru’s stomach ties in a painful knot, and he leans over as if he will let himself fall into the water.

However, Haru holds himself in place, merely wishing that he could escape – disappear from this moment, and from past mistakes that Haru is still paying for today.

“My Prince?”

Haru jumps, turning and seeing Rei. Haru blinks slowly, saying nothing as he continues staring at his gentleman.

Rei sits next to Haru, taking off his cap. “I would have given you more time, but I was worried. Is something the matter?”

Haru does not know where to begin, so he merely looks away. “Did you honestly have no knowledge of what my parents wanted to talk to me about?”

“No. I would have told you if I did,” Rei says. “Why? Was…was it awful?”

Haru looks to Rei, wanting to confide in him, but Haru simply can’t. All Haru can do is think about potential wives and the possibility of losing Makoto in the near future – and it is unclear to Haru which situation is worse.

“Here – let us get your legs out of the water, at least. It must be cold,” Rei says, touching Haru’s arm.

Haru carelessly obeys, heaving his legs out of the water. Rei takes off his vest and dries Haru’s calves and feet with it, staying quiet.

“You don’t have to do that,” Haru says, not moving regardless.

“It is no problem,” Rei says. “I can’t imagine it will be comfortable to ride with wet boots on.” He looks up at Haru, smiling gently as he rolls Haru’s breeches back down. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Haru shakes his head, wishing like he does every now and then that Rei were his true family. “No, you have done plenty enough,” Haru says, helping himself up and putting his boots back on. “I just want to go to the stables.”

“Prince Haruka, Gentleman Ryugazaki.”

Haru turns around, seeing Makoto as if his prayers were answered. “Makoto,” Haru breathes.

“Sir Makoto,” Rei says, standing as well. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

Makoto scratches his head, grinning in that special way he does when he is proud of himself – something Haru has become accustomed to after spending the past week with him.

“I was looking for the prince,” Makoto says. “He usually arrives to the stables by now so while the horses graze I thought I would see if he was here.” Makoto smiles at Haru. “Apparently I was right.”

Haru cannot help but smirk back, letting all the stress crumble from him – at least for a brief moment. “Only moderately,” Haru teases.

“Yes, I did not anticipate to find you and your gentleman swimming,” Makoto says.

“Oh – definitely not,” Rei says, shaking his head. “Prince Haruka is the dolphin, I only tell him when it is time to resurface. I prefer to stay on land.”

“Yes, my gentleman is more of a runner – especially when he runs away when I ask him to join me,” Haru says.

Rei gives Haru a look, and both Haru and Rei turn when Makoto bursts into laughter. Haru stares at the knight in amazement, and Rei blushes.

Makoto realizes his rudeness and coughs into his hand to stop laughing. “O-oh, I am truly sorry, Gentleman Ryugazaki. I was not laughing _at_ you. It is only…Prince Haruka is quite witty.”

“Yes, a regular jester,” Rei says, folding his damp vest over his arm. He glances between Haru and Makoto for a moment. “Well, since we are all here, I will leave you two to Prince Haruka’s training.”

“You’re not accompanying us?” Haru asks.

Rei adjusts his frames on his glasses. “Not today, My Prince.” He gives Haru a small nod, and Haru returns the gesture. Rei softly grips Haru’s arm then walks away from the reservoir.

“Are you all right, Prince Haruka?” Makoto asks. “Did I disturb something?”

Haru turns to Makoto, feeling slightly distracted. “Pardon?”

Makoto shifts his weight between his feet. “I know it is none of my business but you seem. Well, I’m not sure.”

Haru nods, trying not to really meet Makoto’s eyes, fearing that somehow Makoto will be able to see what happened between Haru and his parents at breakfast. How they do not approve of Makoto because he is a commoner, or how they do not mind whoring Haru out to princesses and duchesses.

“I am all right,” Haru answers. “Maybe a little tired this morning, if anything.”

Makoto just stares at Haru, obviously not believing him. “You can rest for the day if it pleases you. We do not have to-”

“- no,” Haru quickly says. “I want a lesson today. I…I will be fine.”

Haru tries to meet Makoto’s gaze, but Haru cannot help but worry if this will be the last time he gets to do this with Makoto; if Haru’s urgency to defend Makoto and spend more time with him with end up keeping the knight away from him permanently.

Haru looks away, sighing. “May we go now?”

“Of course, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, gesturing his hand. “Lead the way.”

The two are quiet as they make their way to the stables, but it is not the same comfortable silence that they shared last night. Makoto keeps unsuccessfully sneaking glances at Haru, and Haru mostly keeps his eyes forward, finding no comfort in his bouncing, troubled mind.

Haru still cannot look Makoto in the eye, and it begins to bother him. If this is honestly the last time Haru will be able to ride with him, he does not understand why he suddenly wants to leave Makoto’s side and go back to his room.

It amazes Haru how one conversation can completely shatter him – break him out of whatever adolescent structure Haru had apparently built around himself – possibly around himself _and_ Makoto.

Haru is a prince. A Nanase. A raven. Of course this is how his life goes. Of course this is how his parents would react and what they want from him. The very fact that Haru is taken aback by his parents’ behavior at all proves that he must have thought things could be different somehow – some way – which is utterly ridiculous.

“Prince Haruka?” Makoto says. Haru peers up, seeing Makoto’s concern clear as day. “We are here,” Makoto adds.

Haru looks around, noticing for the first time that they are at the stables, and their horses are tied up at the fence post.

“Oh, right,” Haru says.

“I see you have finally gotten used to the smell,” Makoto says, obviously trying to cheer up the prince, but all Haru can do is nod and go over to his steed, patting its shiny brown hair.

“What is the lesson for today?” Haru asks, untying Raven.

Makoto takes a survey of their surroundings, scratching his head, and Haru wonders if he should say anything about breakfast – but that would be uncouth, and somehow would only make things harder. Haru has had to dismiss many people from his life over the years, but not someone like Tachibana Makoto.

“How about we ride around the acres for a while?” Makoto finally decides. “If that is all right with you.”

“Certainly,” Haru says.

“You first,” Makoto says, nodding his head in Raven’s direction.

Haru narrows his focus to his steed. He takes a deep breath before placing his foot into the saddle hook and grabbing the mount, pulling hard as he hoists himself up onto his horse, stumbling just a little as he swings his other leg over the massive body of Raven.

Raven nickers, and Makoto holds on to the reigns while Haru gets sorted on the saddle. Haru doesn’t exhale again until he is sure he will not fall off. Haru takes a moment to adjust to being so high up then looks down at Makoto, feeling proud despite everything. He really has worked hard to do this right.

“Excellent work,” Makoto says, smiling widely. “You have improved so much.”

“What can I do better?” Haru asks, taking the reigns.

“Your technique is perfect,” Makoto says, hoisting himself onto Orca in less than a second. “Now it is simply about getting used to it.”

Makoto clicks his teeth and pulls on Orca’s reigns, getting the horse to start moving. Haru follows suit, and they ride side-by-side, leaving the stables and slowly clopping through the open courtyard.

“It’s great that you have a nice hold with your thighs,” Makoto says. “But remember, it is all right to loosen up a little. The more relaxed you are, the more relaxed Raven will feel.”

“All right,” Haru says, easing his grip on his horse’s sides. Haru keeps his eyes on the ground in front of him, as well as the pathway ahead as he wobbles on the saddle.

The sun is out, but there is a slight, cool breeze that flows through the tress they pass. The chill feels good on Haru’s skin, relaxes him while he rides his mountain of an animal that could charge forward or knock him off and trample him at Haru’s slightest mistake.

Haru looks over at Makoto to study his technique, only to find Makoto already gazing at him. Makoto swiftly looks away and so does Haru.

“Prince Haruka?” Makoto says.

“Yes?” Haru answers.

“I’m sorry,” Makoto says.

Haru raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

Makoto sighs. “If my teasing from last night angered you, I do apologize.”

Haru rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Makoto…”

“I know it is not my place,” Makoto adds, “but you honestly do seem…troubled. I can’t help but think it is my fault and-”

“ - shut up!” Haru demands, finally turning to him. “Not everything is about you, Makoto.”

Makoto pales, and he looks away and down, frowning. “You are absolutely right. I will say no more.”

Haru scoffs and squeezes his legs against Raven, pulling back on the reigns to halt his steed. With a simple tug on the reigns, Makoto gets Orca to do the same thing.

“Would you like to go back?” Makoto asks. “We can end for the day if I have upset you.”

Haru forces himself to really look at Makoto, and he realizes instantly that his anger and words should be to his parents – not this knight. However, Haru also cannot help but realize that he actually _is_ angry with Makoto.

It’s not about Makoto – yet everything seems to be about him lately. It is obviously not Makoto’s literal fault, but Haru does blame him. Blames the knight for suddenly making things so complicated in Haru’s life and in his mind.

“I do not want to leave,” Haru says, “but it honestly is ridiculous for you to apologize. My mood…well – it has nothing to do with you. All right?”

Makoto nods. “All right, Prince Haruka. Um, shall we start over?”

“Yes,” Haru answers. He pulls on the reigns and clicks his teeth to get Raven moving again, and the two slowly ride once more.

“You must be happy to have your father back home,” Makoto says, after awhile.

Haru, who had finally achieved a faint state of meditation, scoffs at such a question. The irony of Makoto bringing up the king is almost too much for Haru to stomach.

“Why would you assume that?” Haru asks.

Makoto laughs. “He is your father. You must miss him when he’s away.”

Haru shrugs. “The king is always absent. I am more than accustomed to it.”

“Regardless,” Makoto says. “Well, at least your mother is always here with you.”

Haru bites the side of his lip, keeping his eyes forward. Yes, Haru was sure of the same thing. Even with the strict rules of conduct, Haru has always felt that his mother at least understood him a little – was mostly on his side. But she was there too, encouraging his father, looking down on Makoto.

“I miss my mother probably more than anyone these days,” Makoto says, his voice dipping a little. “Even more so than the twins, which I did not think was possible.”

“Does she not write to you often?” Haru asks, happy to have a distraction from his thoughts.

Makoto shakes his head. “My mother does not write to me at all.”

“Oh,” Haru says.

“Not because she doesn’t want to,” Makoto quickly adds, patting Orca’s neck. “It’s just hard for her.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Haru says.

Makoto looks at Haru. “It’s all right, Prince Haruka. I do not mind talking about it with you. Besides, I have bad days as well, and sometimes hearing another person’s story helps…”

“Make you forget about your own?” Haru asks.

Makoto smiles a little at him, nodding. “Yes, exactly. Come on, let us take a breather.”

Makoto stops Orca and hops off, holding out his hand to help Haru off his horse – something Haru is still having trouble doing on his own. They guide their horses to a large, healthy tree with fat green leaves, which provides a lovely amount of shade.

Makoto ties Orca’s reigns around the bark. “Always be sure to secure the knot,” Makoto explains, pulling the leather strap tightly. “The last thing you want is your horse running off or someone stealing him.”

Haru ties Raven to the tree as well, following Makoto’s example. Makoto opens a side satchel on Orca’s saddle and takes out a small, rolled up piece of wool. He fluffs it out, brushing off stray twigs and grass blades.

Haru’s silently gasps. “What is that for?”

“Oh, this…” Makoto trails off, evidently realizing what his gesture looks like. The knight blushes furiously, whipping his head from side to side. “O-oh, I am so sorry, Prince Haruka! It’s not what you think. I always travel with this – never know when you will be stranded, right? It – it’s only big enough for one person anyway, and you are a prince so….”

Makoto shuts up, slapping a hand over his crimson face. “I will just put this away and roll myself into the satchel as well.”

Haru actually laughs, holding up his hand. “That will not be necessary. Thank you, Makoto. That is quite considerate.”

Makoto eases, seeming happy for the first time since the lesson began. “It’s all I am trying to be, My Prince,” Makoto says, spreading the blanket out over the grass and gesturing for Haru to sit down.

Haru nods in thanks and gracefully sits on the wool. Makoto, as always, flops down next to him in the grass. Makoto runs a hand through his light hair. The breeze skips through the locks, which makes Haru think of the soft sands of the beach.

Makoto picks up a stick and begins breaking it into pieces, looking up at Haru, suddenly more serious.

“My mother does not write to me because she is very sick. She has been for ages,” Makoto says. “Most of the time…she doesn’t even know who I am, and the longer I am away, the more I know she forgets about me.”

Haru’s heart skips a beat, and it pangs inside his chest. Makoto is always smiling. Is always so optimistic and carefree. It astonishes Haru that the knight can be such things while carrying such a painful truth. It is amazingly tragic.

“I am so sorry, Makoto,” Haru says, tenderly. “That must be awful.”

“It is,” Makoto says, smiling sadly, and never has Haru seen the knight’s green eyes so dark before. “More than ever I wish I could talk to her. There are so many stories I have for her. So many questions I need to ask.” Makoto chuckles. “And she would absolutely adore you.”

Haru feels his ears burning, and as a courtesy to Makoto he does not look away. “I am sure that I would like her just as much.”

Makoto blushes as well. “What a thing to hear, Prince Haruka.”

Makoto lets a low, deep breath out. “It’s actually one of the things I use my earnings for,” he further explains. “To help pay for her medicine, so she can at least be some sort of mother to my brother and sister. Talk to my father and give him company when she has moments of remembrance.”

Makoto breaks the stick into a few more pieces, and he looks completely broken. Haru suddenly gets an urge to speak – to tell Makoto something that Haru could not even bring himself to tell Rei, and Haru decides to act on it. Makoto’s bravery is simply giving Haru strength.

“I had a row with my mother – and my father, this morning,” Haru finds himself saying. “It was the worst I can remember having with them for a long time.”

Haru starts pulling out blades of grass, understanding Makoto’s need to keep his hands busy. “I can’t imagine going back there and seeing them – ever,” Haru adds.

“But you can’t hide here,” Makoto says.

“Are you trying to tell me what I can and cannot do as well?” Haru snaps, not even meaning to.

Makoto seems stunned. He soon shakes his head. “No, of course not. All I mean is that you will have to see them eventually, and besides, they love you, Prince Haruka.”

Haru laughs dryly, feeling surprised even though he shouldn’t. Of course Makoto would say such a thing. “You are defending them?” Haru says. “Taking their side?”

“No, I’m not,” Makoto says. “I have just never seen you so upset before, which means you care.”

Haru gazes at Makoto, amazed at how this knight can be so smart and observant, so kind and understanding – all the things Haru’s parents will not care to know about him.  

“Possibly,” Haru mutters, despite himself. “But nothing will make a difference. They are stubborn creatures.”

“Then you get it honestly,” Makoto says, smirking.

Haru glares and throws his pulled blades of grass at Makoto, which makes the knight chuckle.

“Very mature, My Prince,” Makoto says.

“Well, you are very annoying,” Haru answers.

“I do not mean to be,” Makoto says, brushing the grass away. He grows serious again. “I honestly do not like seeing you in this way, Prince Haruka, and I want to help.”

“You cannot help this,” Haru says, truthfully.

“Maybe not, but I can give you counsel,” Makoto offers. “If a prince would take such a thing from a lowly knight like myself.”

Haru’s heart pangs again, and he wishes that Makoto would not joke of such things today. Haru sighs, giving Makoto a once-over. Haru knows that whatever the knight has to say probably will not work in Haru’s situation, but Makoto is looking at him so kindly, and Haru is not sure if he can say no to him, especially since this may be the last time Haru will get to speak to him so candidly like this.

“All right,” Haru says, gesturing his hand.

Makoto perks up a bit. “R-really?”

Haru rolls his eyes. “I can resend if you would like.”

“No – no,” Makoto quickly says. “All right, well, tell me what usually happens when you argue with your parents?”

Haru pulls out more blades of grass, shifting in place. He doesn’t unusually do this with people. In fact, he _never_ does. “Nothing really,” Haru mumbles. “Someone storms off, and the conversation is dismissed.”

Makoto nods. “Have you considered talking to them?”

“Talking leads to the arguing, Makoto,” Haru says.

“No, I mean afterwards,” Makoto says. “After whoever storms off and the conversation is dismissed. Have you thought of talking to them after that?”

“That is not exactly how the Nanase family settles our disagreements,” Haru says, dully. “The king’s rulings are much easier and…much more permanent.”

“What about your mother?” Makoto asks.

Haru frown curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not naïve to think that the king will necessarily hear your side of whatever is going on,” Makoto says. “However, from the few encounters I have had with the queen, she does seem like someone who will at least try to understand.”

“But she-”

“- trust me, My Prince,” Makoto says, boldly interrupting. There is a sense of urgency in Makoto’s expression and in his tone that commands Haru. “You should try talking to her. Talk to her…because you can. Because at the end of the day she will at least be able to hear you. Look you in the eye.”

A strong breeze rips through the air and over Haru and Makoto, but Haru only has attention for the knight sitting beside him, telling him something with his eyes that Haru can hear loudly in his head.

Haru allows himself to slouch a little, letting his chin rest on his palm. “Is this just for my benefit?” he asks.

Makoto slowly shakes his head. “I would give anything to have a row with my mother. That would mean that she recognizes me. Cares enough to get angry.”

Haru has to look away this time. “I’m really sorry about your mother, Makoto.”

“Me too,” Makoto breathes.

They both go quiet and take in what they have told each other, what is eating away at them separately. Although there is so much going through Haru’s head, he cannot help but recognize how much calmer he also feels. How pleasant it was to get words off his chest, and how Haru was able to ride on Raven all this way without making any huge mistakes. None of it would have been possible without Makoto – the apparent “just commoner” knight sitting next to him.

Haru and Makoto stay out in the field for a while longer, and when Makoto ultimately suggests that they return to the stables, Haru doesn’t protest.

Rei is already waiting for them, standing patiently next to the fence. As Makoto helps Haru off his horse and bids farewell to him, Haru feels another horrible knot in his stomach and he reluctantly leaves with his gentleman.

Haru is silent as Rei escorts him back to the castle. He only partially listens as Rei lists off all the tasks Haru is required to perform today, including another meeting with kingdom officials, and letter writing to some of the princesses on his father’s list, officially inviting them to the masquerade ball.

“You know, I think Sir Makoto is right,” Rei says, as they begin their walk up the pathway to the castle entrance.

Haru looks up for the first time. “Pardon?”

Rei smiles. “Maybe you will be a horse god. From the little I saw today, you really are learning well. I am relieved that he is your instructor.”

“You are?” Haru asks.

Rei looks at Haru curiously. “Yes, of course. I will admit that I was mildly unsure at first, but you seem to be learning a lot, and you seem happy.” Rei chuckles. “Or at least your equivalent of happiness.”

Haru rolls his eyes, smirking, and feels a pleasant tingle in his toes. It is at that moment where Haru realizes that he has to do something – say something. There are many things that Haru cannot control as a prince, but he can at least try. Haru cannot lose what he has – whatever is apparently so obvious: His happiness.

“When we get return inside you may leave me,” Haru says to Rei “I. I need to speak with my mother.”

~~~~

Haru travels up the staircases, bypasses the guards, and arrives to his parents’ bedding chambers. He peeks between the spaces of the luxurious black drapery.

Haru’s mother is alone in the room, sitting on the bed and brushing her long, beautiful black hair that has the same luster as Haru’s. She stares out to the balcony like Haru always does, like she too wishes she could be somewhere else sometimes.

Haru rests his head against the frame of the entrance, thinking about what it would feel like if his mother suddenly did not recognize him, or could not recall the times when Haru was a child and she would allow Haru to sleep with her when the king was away.

Haru quietly steps into the room, bowing his head. “My Queen?”

Haru’s mother turns to him. “Haruka,” she says. “What brings you? If it is to apologize to your father then I am afraid you have just missed him. He’s in congress.”

“I will find father after his meeting,” Haru says. “I do apologize to you as well for my behavior.”

“Behavior that is uncouth and unbecoming of a Nanase,” Haru’s mother says, setting down her brush.

“I understand,” Haru says, bowing once more.

The queen studies Haru for a moment. “Come,” she says, motioning for Haru to join her on the bed.

Haru walks over and sits on the edge, keeping his hands flat on his thighs like he was taught to do while sitting with a lady. His mother looks at him kindly, and Haru recognizes that anger is not something he feels for her. For his father – yes, but for his mother the sensation is more akin to…betrayal.

“Haruka,” Haru’s mother says. “I know the transition since becoming of age has been hard, and I understand how difficult it is to take on a new role, but it is something you are simply going to have to do.”

“I know,” Haru says.

“Then you also know that everything you were told this morning is law,” the queen says. “You need to hear these things and understand. You need to be mature.”

The queen sighs lightly, looking out to the balcony. “My only regret is the manner in which you were presented the information. Looking back, I see why you became irate, but that is still no reason to disrespect your father or me.”

“I do regret my actions, Mother,” Haru urges. “However, I too meant the things I said.”

“Haruka,” Haru’s mother says. “I will admit that your father’s demeanor was a bit short, but everything he has done has been for your benefit. Recruiting potential wives is very important. They will be attending the ball, and you will show them courtesy and present to them. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Haru says softly, swallowing something hard and sharp in his throat.

Haru really just wants to get up and leave, for the idea of a wife is making it hard to breathe, but he has to say what he came here to tell his mother. Haru owes it to himself, and more importantly to Makoto.

When Haru musters up the will, he says, “I finished my riding lesson before coming here. Is it also clear that it will be my last with Sir Makoto?”

The queen frowns a little, showing the delicate lines of her age. “Yes, as we told you it is a possibility.”

“And this is only because he is a commoner?” Haru asks.

“Not only a commoner but a knight for your father’s army,” Haru’s mother says. “Tachibana is here to work and become a solider this kingdom will utilize for years, but there is nothing more.”

“You are right,” Haru says. “There _is_ nothing more. So I do not understand why it is a problem if he trains me. He is a knight, Mother. He can obviously teach me everything I need to know, and he is.”

Haru’s mother looks Haru right in the eyes, and she slowly shakes her head. “I know he can, but that is not really what this is about.”

“Then what is it about?” Haru asks, with all the sincerity he can show. “You. You did not protest when father wasn’t here.”

Haru’s mother looks away again, moving her hand through her hair. “And perhaps that was a mistake, but Haruka, the king is right,” she says. “There is very little about your princehood that you perceive considerately. In fact, sometimes your father and I wonder if the only people you do respect in this kingdom are yourself and your gentleman.”

“That is untrue,” Haru urges. “Mother, I do not know what father told you but last night I did everything he wanted me to do, and-”

Haru’s mother holds up her hand, something she rarely does. “The point being, showing this level of vigor and respect for a man such as Tachibana is rare for my son, and I do not know if this is coming from you or from him.”

Haru has to look away. “Mother…”

“I will be honest,” the queen says. “My concerns are less about his origin and more for his occupation. Haruka, have you not headed my words and warnings all these years about knights?”

Haru feels sick to his stomach again. He wishes that he could just rolls his eyes at her needless worry, but Haru knows that she is right – experienced it for himself years ago. However, Haru does everything he can to beat down the memory. The only knight that matters right now is Makoto.

“I have listened,” Haru says, softly, wishing the words were completely true. “Mother, I have listened and endorsed everything you have taught me, but I must say…”

Haru lets out a shaky breath. This is more than difficult for him, but it has to be done.

“I must say,” Haru begins again, “this is not the case with him. Sir Makoto, I do respect him, yes, but only because he deserves to be respected. He is courteous and a gentleman, and he is honestly only teaching me how to be proficient in riding. He is no threat to me.”

“Then what is he to you?” Haru’s mother asks.

Haru thinks about it, opening and closing his mouth several times. “He is…a good knight, Mother. An honest, good knight who I would very much appreciate if you didn’t take away. If you do not trust him, at least trust me.”

The queen’s vast blue eyes grow, and for a moment she looks at Haru as if she does not recognize him – and Haru doesn’t blame her, for he isn’t sure of whom he is right now either.

Haru’s mother looks away for a moment and sighs before turning back to him. “I do trust you, Haruka,” she says, nodding. “All right. I will have to speak with your father, but I will _try_ to sway him.”

“You will?” Haru whispers, feeling somewhat lighter although he is sitting down.

The queen puts her hand on top of Haru’s, smiling. “Haruka, you are my son and I dearly love you, more than anything. You may not believe it, but I do want you to be happy, and the way you looked when you left the table this morning is something I would rather not see again.”

Haru puts his hand on top of hers, feeling relieved that she is here. That he does not have to deal with the king all by himself.

“I am so very sorry, and I promise that I will present myself perfectly to the suitors,” Haru says. “I will uphold and respect the Nanase name with grace.”

“I know you will,” Haru’s mother says. “In spite of everything, I do believe that you have grown up to be a very smart, fine man, and so does your father.”

Haru wants to scoff at the last part but he resists. He reaches over, kissing his mother on the cheek before rising from the bed. Haru bows to her. “Thank you, My Queen.”

“You are welcome,” she answers. “You may be excused.” The queen gives Haru a small smile and Haru grins back before leaving her chambers.

Haru, at last, returns to his room. He kicks off his boots, heading straight for the balcony. Haru walks out onto it and looks over the kingdom, taking in the breeze and smiling to himself.

Haru thinks about what his mother can possibly say to the king to change his mind, but he hopes it’s enough. It simply has to be.

Haru bites the corner of his lip, wondering for the first time if he made a mistake starting all of this – requesting Makoto to be his instruction. Haru still does not have an answer as to what Makoto is to him, but Haru at least knows that he cannot deny anymore that the knight matters to him – means _something_ , at least.

Something that is apparently worth fighting for.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that I smell...? *sniffs* Is that the scent of...possibility?  
> Thank you all for sticking around. It means so much to me! :)


	7. Liberation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I would do anything for Prince Haruka.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I would have the next chap up soon! lol. As I explained, this is the first chapter of what I am deeming Part II of this epic. I hope you all enjoy! <3

Makoto is absolutely beside himself. He feels as though he is high in the sky, soaring above the world and anything that could drag him back down to reality.

“You are completely amazing,” Makoto says, although he knows Prince Haruka cannot hear him – which is probably for the best.

Makoto bounces a bit on the stool he is sitting on, keeping his eyes on the prince, who gallops at a mild pace around the stables on Raven. He looks confident, and much more importantly, he seems comfortable.

It has been a little over a month since the prince started training, and his aptitude still astonishes Makoto. Prince Haruka is one of those people who is great at just about everything he does, and Makoto is thankful that he gets to be a small part of yet another thing the prince will eventually master.

Another rumble of thunder agitates the serenity of the moment, and Prince Haruka trots over to Makoto. He pulls on Raven’s reigns to stop him, and Makoto stands up, watching blissfully as the prince dismounts with sheer grace. Makoto has never felt such pride.

Prince Haruka seems pleased with himself as well as he pats Raven’s neck, trying to catch his breath. “How was that one?”

Makoto shakes his head, feeling pleasantly overwhelmed, and just so… _good_. “Perfect, My Prince. You can ride with me and my Brothers any day.”

Prince Haruka smirks, dipping his head in thanks. “I think I really enjoy the faster pace.”

“Fun, yes?” Makoto says. “Perhaps we should start racing out here. See how fast you can truly go without losing control.”

“Is that a challenge?” Prince Haruka asks.

“I do not think I would ever dare challenge a prince,” Makoto answers, smiling widely at him.

Prince Haruka doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at Makoto with his big blue eyes and perfect little smirk. Makoto sighs and merely gazes back at him, wishing for unclear things. Things that have been charging through Makoto’s head more and more every day that they meet and train together.

A rupture of thunder shakes the ground, causing both men to jump, and an instant later rain falls from the sky; the droplets coming down as fat, hard beads.

“Oh!” Prince Haruka gasps, looking up and closing his eyes, letting the rain simply dowse him.

“I suppose we will have to settle this later!” Makoto says in a raised voice, chuckling. “Come on!”

Makoto takes Raven’s reigns and hurriedly guides him back into the stables, Prince Haruka quickly running inside the shelter.

Makoto puts Raven safely inside its quarter, giving him an apple and feeding Orca as well, who is still safe and dry inside his sector. Makoto then glances over at Prince Haruka. He is standing right inside the stables, staring out into the rain as if he wants to go back into the wet weather.

Makoto stands beside the prince, figuring that he might as well watch the rain with him. Makoto keeps sneaking glances at the prince, noticing how Prince Haruka seems so relaxed – so at home in the weather. He is totally drenched, his clothes sticking to his skin and his hair plastered against his face, but he is happy. Makoto can simply tell – feel it.

Makoto tries not to stare at Prince Haruka, but he can’t really help himself, and Makoto must admit that wetness suits the prince. He just looks so beautiful and majestic. Makoto cannot imagine what it would feel like to see him swimming – emerging from a body of water.

“Do you enjoy storms?” Makoto asks, deciding to distract himself.

Prince Haruka nods. “It is dry here far too often. Rain is always much appreciated.” He looks at Makoto, moving hair out of his face, and his black locks look even darker sodden – the prince’s lips pinker somehow when they get wet.

Makoto moves his gaze, staring out into the rain again. “Storms scared me as a boy.”

“I am not surprised to hear this,” Prince Haruka teases. “You scare quite easily, Makoto – like a horse.”

Makoto blushes, rubbing his neck. “I am not as bad as I once was, Prince Haruka. I am a knight after all.”

“Yes, you certainly are,” Prince Haruka says, grinning, his wet hair dripping down his slender neck.

Makoto giggles stupidly. Even though his clothes are soaked as well, he feels warmth in his stomach and in his chest. He soon detects that the prince is shivering in his tunic and breeches, and Makoto wishes that he could help warm up the prince somehow – a hug being the very first thought to form in Makoto’s head...

Makoto coughs a bit, turning his attention away again. “We should probably end for the day. I will escort you back.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Prince Haruka says. “I want to enjoy walking back in the rain for as long as possible before Rei eventually finds me and drags me inside.”

“I don’t mind taking you,” Makoto says.

“And I don’t mind going alone,” Prince Haruka answers, honestly looking excited.

Makoto really wants to protest, but he knows better than to argue with the prince when he has made up his mind. Makoto exhales, seceding, and grabs his green cloak from the small table inside the stables.

“At least take this,” Makoto says, offering the garment to Prince Haruka. The prince merely examines it, and Makoto’s ears burn. “It is clean, I swear. At least mostly clean.”

Prince Haruka looks between Makoto and the cloak. “But what will you do?”

“I will manage,” Makoto assures. “I’m a fast runner. Besides, you are no good to your kingdom if you fall ill. Take it.”

Prince Haruka accepts the cloak, and as much as Makoto wants to help put it on him, he doesn’t move. The prince ties the garment around his neck, and Makoto laughs, as it is clearly two sizes too big for him – which is even more perfect somehow.

“Thank you,” Prince Haruka says, nodding in thanks.

“You are most welcome,” Makoto says. “Please, be careful out there, My Prince.”

“You as well, Makoto,” Prince Haruka says. He nods to Makoto then quickly scurries off, running back out into the rain and away from the stables, Makoto’s green cloak flying behind the prince.

Makoto releases a loud, deep sigh that he had been holding back, and Orca nickers. “I know, boy,” Makoto whispers. “I know…”

Makoto stands and watches the rain for a bit longer, his heart fluttering from thoughts of the prince, and his stomach twisting from reasons why he should not be feeling this way at all.

Makoto eventually runs back to his barracks, getting utterly drenched down to his underwear. He hopes that Prince Haruka made it back safely, and the thought of him automatically puts a smile on Makoto’s face – _again_.

“It is madness out there,” Makoto says to his Brothers when he gets back inside, shaking his head wildly to release dripping water from his soggy hair.

“And you seem all too happy about it,” Mikoshiba says from his cot, throwing Makoto a drying cloth.

“It’s not the rain, obviously,” Higa says, smirking curiously at Makoto.

“What are you on about now, Higa?” Makoto asks, going to his bed. He pulls out dry clothes from his bag and begins to strip down, drying himself off with the cloth and promptly pulling on new underwear and breeches.

Higa laughs and gets up from his cot, walking over to Makoto’s bed and sitting down, not caring at all that Makoto is attempting to dress himself.

“Come now Tachibana, I’m your Brother,” Higa says. “You do not have to lie to me. We all know what is going on. Don’t we boys?”

The other knights in the room grumble, snicker, and nod. All of their eyes on Makoto. Makoto looks around the barracks, blushing under the attention and for his apparent dimness as to what Higa is talking about.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on here?” Makoto asks.

“Nothing at all, Tachibana,” Mikoshiba says. “Your Brothers are simply jaded.”

“No – no, I will explain,” Higa says, lying back on Makoto’s bed. “Tachibana, you may have fooled us in the beginning with your _innocent knight_ custom, but it is obvious now. You are charming the prince, aren’t you?”

Makoto’s jaw drops. “W-what?” he stutters. “N-no, I’m not. I am just-”

“- teaching the prince how to ride a horse, yes, we all know,” Higa says, waving a hand. “It is a brilliant scheme. A perfect way to spend all of your down time with him with no questions asked.” Higa sits up, his eyes shining. “So, what is he like?”

“What do you mean by that?” Makoto mutters, busing himself with finding a clean vest to put on. There isn’t a twisting feeling in his stomach anymore. Now, it clearly just hurts.

“Higa,” Mikoshiba breathes. “We cannot talk about Prince Haruka like this. He is the king’s son.”

“Precisely,” Higa says. “He is the king’s son who is also utterly gorgeous and untouchable, yet Tachibana here strolls back into the barracks with the same stupid grin on his face every time he finishes a _lesson_ with him. Why is that?”

Higa looks back at Makoto, but Makoto does not have any words for him. He cannot deny that meeting up with Prince Haruka is what he looks forward to more than anything these days; thinks about seeing him again the moment they part ways, but Makoto had no idea that it was so obvious to other people.

Makoto had assumed that he had been doing a good job of hiding his emotions – because they _have_ to stay hidden. Have to stay caged and buried deeply inside his heart.

“Keep your mouth closed, Higa,” Makoto decides to say. “Mikoshiba is right – we cannot and should not speak of the prince.”

“You’re not on first name terms with him yet?” Higa asks, chuckling. “After all he has done for you?”

Makoto sighs and closes his eyes. He knows that it is wise to just let it go, but Makoto never claimed to be very smart. “Done what for me, Higa?” Makoto asks.

Higa rolls his eyes. “You can stop with the act, Tachibana. We are all knights here and would love to be in your position. How did you get the assignment anyway?”

Makoto scratches his neck. That is a question Makoto honestly still asks himself. “H-he requested me.”

“Oh, I am sure he did,” Higa says, nodding. “We’ve all heard the rumors about him.”

“What rumors?” Makoto quickly asks, his heart beginning to beat faster.

“That Prince Haruka is an absolute tease and very flirtatious,” a fellow knight says. “A field toiler told me that the prince arranges _meetings_ with the help in exchange for things.”

Makoto is taken aback. He can’t refute that he too has heard certain unmentionable things about the prince, but he has never once entertained or believed any of it for a second, and he cannot believe that his Brothers would be so stupid as to give life to such rumors.

“Whatever you have heard is a lie,” Makoto says. “You lot are right – I do spend a lot of time with Prince Haruka, and I can tell you that he is nothing but graceful and appropriate.”

“Until he gets on his knees for you, right Tachibana?” Higa says.

“Pardon me?” Makoto asks, unconsciously taking a step forward toward Higa.

“All right, this is over now,” Mikoshiba says, tugging Higa off Makoto’s bed. “We all have better things to do.”

“Like talk about how Tachibana is letting the prince ride his cock as much as he rides his horse,” Higa says, chuckling again. “Tachibana - I thought you were above random fornication these days?”

“It is not random if the ass belongs to your employer’s son!” one of Makoto’s fellow knights calls out.

“And I suspect that Prince Haruka has the finest, tightest ass in this entire kingdom,” Higa says. “No wonder Tachibana is finished with maids and brothel whores – even finished with us. Why fuck a lowly fellow when he can have an ass of royalty? If anything Tachibana-”

Makoto growls and lunges forward, jumping over his bed, his hands going straight for Higa’s throat. Mikoshiba hurriedly stands between them, taking Makoto by the shoulders.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Tachibana?” Mikoshiba says, pushing Makoto away.

“He was going to attack me!” Higa says, his eyes wide.

“You need to shut up!” Makoto warns, pushing toward Higa again, but Mikoshiba holds him back.

“No, you need to calm down, Makoto!” Mikoshiba yells. “You cannot attack your Brother! How stupid can you be?”

“Stupid enough to prove my point many times over,” Higa says.

“No, you are _wrong_!” Makoto says, yanking himself away from Mikoshiba.

Makoto looks around the room at all his Brothers, feeling sickened by them, but also feeling horribly guilty and maybe even a little scared.

“You lot are the vile ones,” Makoto says in a trembling voice, shaking his head. “We are supposed to protect and honor the prince. Not say these sorts of things about him. None of you know him or have earned the right to even speak his name.”

“That’s enough,” Mikoshiba warns, holding up a hand.

“He thinks he’s better than us now,” a fellow knight says.

“No, I don’t,” Makoto says. “But Prince Haruka definitely is, and as long as I am here I will not tolerate hearing this filth. I care not that you all are my Brothers. Show some damn respect or…”

“Or what?” Higa asks.

Makoto bites his lip. He rarely ever gets angry, and when he does it completely throws him off balance, but a line has been crossed, and Makoto will stand his ground.

Makoto looks directly at Higa. “Or I will make sure that you cannot speak ill of anyone again, Higa.”

“You would betray our oath?” Higa asks, seeming surprised. “You would dishonor me for the prince?”

“I would do anything for Prince Haruka,” Makoto says without even having to think about it, but the words are more for himself than anyone else. “My greatest loyalty is to him and his family,” Makoto adds. “Maybe you lot have forgotten that because you are all too busy thinking about your damn cocks all the time.”

Makoto grabs the rest of his clothes from the bed and leaves the room, going to the empty quarter next to their sleeping barracks that's mostly used for exercise and sword practice.

Makoto is shaking as he dresses himself. He hasn't felt so furious in a long time - possibly ever before. He knows that it is wrong to threaten or harm a Brother; it shows disloyalty and goes against everything they pledged during their oath, but Makoto could not help himself. Hearing such words about the prince – his fellow knights accusing him of such horrible motives – simply eats at Makoto’s insides.

Makoto backs up against the wall and slides down, sighing heavily. Everything Higa and the others said is untrue, and Makoto knows that, but he also unfortunately knows that their underlining reason for suspicion may have some truth to it.

Makoto has spent almost every day with the prince, and the way he makes Makoto feel is not something he can ignore.

Makoto does have feelings for Prince Haruka. Likes him in the way Makoto knows he shouldn't and isn't supposed to, and what scares him even more than his feelings is the idea that others can tell - can see what Makoto is so desperately trying to conceal.

Prince Haruka makes Makoto so unbelievably happy. Makes him feel younger and carefree, but also stronger and important and perhaps even _safe_. Even though Makoto is the one sworn to protect him.

Regardless, Makoto is a knight. A solider. A Tachibana. Whatever he feels is not allowed to matter. Makoto is here for his family. He has to work hard and do everything he can to be the best knight possible so he can provide for them. If anyone where to suspect otherwise, Makoto is sure that he would be banished. He would fail and disappoint his family – his family that always has to be his main objective. His most important reason for being in life.

Makoto runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands and feeling so utterly guilty. Guilty for betraying his Brother; for not giving all of his focus to his family, and for liking Prince Haruka so damn much.

This was not a part of Makoto's plan. This is _not_ supposed to be what he cares about the most, yet every time Makoto is with the prince, he is able to forget about his troubles and what is going on back home – at least for a little while, and that is what Makoto feels shameful for most of all. The very fact that Prince Haruka makes Makoto feel like he is a different person who can live a life separately from the one he has. Differently from the one he shares with his family.

Makoto hears commotion in the other room and Constable Fuki’s voice is soon to accompany it. Makoto hurriedly gets up and joins his Brothers in the main quarters.

“What has happened?” Makoto asks.

“The castle is being put on lockdown,” Higa says.

Makoto’s heart skips a beat. “The rebels are revolting?”

“There has been major activity in the western region, and a threat to the entire Nanase family has been issued,” Constable Fuki answers. “We are putting the whole castle on guard. The grounds are being checked as we speak, and you lot will do a sweep of the inner city. The senior soldiers will head west.”

“You heard Constable Fuki, get ready men,” Mikoshiba says, dressing himself in his chainmail.

“Yes, ready yourselves,” Constable Fuki says. “Everyone needs to gear up and get your horses set right away. I want you men patrolling the same stations you were originally assigned, then immediately report back to our congress chamber for further instruction. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Constable Fuki,” all the knights say at once.

“Excellent,” Constable Fuki says. “Be vigilant. Be swift. Be prepared. Let’s go men!”

Makoto and his Brothers quickly and silently begin changing into their chainmail and armor. Makoto’s hands shake as he puts on the proper attire. This will definitely be a new experience for him as a knight, but he will do his absolute best to keep the Nanase’s safe.

Makoto’s heart suddenly skips a beat again – he remembers that Prince Haruka had walked on his own back to the castle. For a moment Makoto panics, but the prince left a while ago, and if he were in any danger they would have been alerted way before this moment.

“Tachibana,” Higa says, walking over to Makoto after he is fully dressed in his gear. “Look, I am sorry for upsetting you. We’re Brothers. We are supposed to be on the same side.”

Makoto puts on his helmet, deciding right now is not the time to hold grudges. He simply nods. “Be safe out there.”

“You too,” Higa says, patting him on the shoulder before leaving.

Makoto performs a few stretches to adjust to the extra weight of all his gear. He then attaches his belt and hooks on his sword sheath, taking out the blade and rotating it a few times in his hand before placing it back into the holster. He tells himself to focus and stay alert. Everything else cannot matter right now. Now, it is time to be a proper knight and do his job.

Makoto makes his way to the stables after he is fully dressed, equipping Orca with all the necessary equipment. He is thankful that the rain has calmed to a light mist, and Makoto hoists himself on his steed, feeling a nervous excitement.

“Let’s go, boy,” Makoto says kindly to Orca, pulling on the reigns and clicking his teeth, quickly galloping out of the stables and toward the city. A rush of adrenaline speeds through him as he rides, and Makoto feels like a true knight. Feels like he is finally doing what he is supposed to do.

Makoto follows his assigned route, patrolling the wet, deserted streets of the upper northern part of the kingdom. He makes his presence known in the densely populated region of the area, being sure to trot through the lower class avenues, flashing his sword and keeping his eyes alert to anyone suspicious.

Makoto cannot help but look closely for red hair, fearing that Rin may be behind some of this uproar. The last thing Makoto wants to do is take him into confinement or possibly duel him, but Makoto will do what is necessary for his job and for his kingdom.

After Makoto clears the more impoverished sectors, he makes stops at the middle upper-class homes and facilities, alerting families and workers of possible attacks and what they should do if they see or hear anything.

Makoto can’t help but feel guilty for neglecting the lower-class homes and business. He would want his family to know and his entire village to know if the city was on alert, but he cannot risk defying the rules. It is simply “of no great concern”, according to the policy of the kingdom.

Makoto silently apologizes to his village and to every surrounding lower-class home he did not warn. He wishes things were different, but Makoto does not possess that kind of power. Ironically enough, the people who do are the same people he decides to work for and follow blindly.

~~~~

By the time Makoto arrives back to the castle it is after dark, and a slight throb has formed at his temples from straining his eyes so much. Watch guards surround the entire castle, and torches are lit everywhere.

Makoto returns Orca to the stables then immediately heads inside the castle for further instructions. When Makoto enters, he is surprised by how empty and quiet the foyer is. He has never seen the castle so barren.

Makoto heads straight for the meeting chamber as told, and his heart trips over itself when he sees not only Constable Fuki but also Queen Nanase.

Makoto immediately takes off his helmet, falling to a knee. “My Queen, Constable Fuki,” he says.

“You may rise,” the queen says.

Makoto stands back up, trying not to blush. “The streets were clear. I found no suspicious activity, and the people have been alerted.”

“That is good to hear. Some of your Brothers south were not as unfortunate,” Constable Fuki says.

Makoto instantly wants to ask what the constable means by such a thing, but he holds his tongue. He knows that it is not the time to ask such things.

“Most of you novices are being reassigned to guarding points around and outside of the castle,” Constable Fuki continues in saying. “To secure the kingdom throughout the night.”

“Where should I report to, Constable Fuki?” Makoto asks. “I can help guard the central gate.”

“That will not be necessary,” Constable Fuki says. “I have assigned Mikoshiba to the gate, but the queen has personally requested that you remain inside the castle.”

“I want you to guard Prince Haruka’s quarters,” the queen says, urgently.

Makoto’s eyes grow wide, and he tries not to appear as startled as he feels. “M-me, My Queen?”

“Yes, Tachibana,” Constable Fuki says, not seeming sure of the idea either. “Whenever the castle goes on lockdown the king, queen, and prince are all assigned personal guardians, and the queen feels as though…you should take the honor of guarding Prince Haruka.”

Makoto does not know what to say, and he nearly drops his helmet, fearing that his limbs may give out completely.

“Is this something you feel you will not be able to perform?” the queen asks, looking mildly concerned.

Makoto shakes his head at once. “No, My Queen. I can definitely perform this duty.”

“I am relieved to hear this,” the queen says, taking a step forward toward Makoto.

Makoto can’t help but blush a little more. The queen has such a soft, imposing presence…just like her son. Not to mention, they posses the same piercing eyes that completely command Makoto.

“Sir Makoto,” the queen says. “You have spent much time with my son and have done a great deal of service to him. I know he trusts you, and more importantly, I feel as though he will listen to you best in regards to his safety. This is the only reason why I have decided to trust you in guarding his quarters. You will never have a more important duty in this kingdom than the one you own now. Is this clear?”

“Yes, My Queen,” Makoto says, bowing to her and feeling extremely lightheaded.

“Execute a sweep of Prince Haruka’s chambers, and as he sleeps you are to stay outside his room throughout the entire night,” Constable Fuki orders. “In the morning you will be relieved, and I will convene with the Brotherhood as a whole.”

“Yes, Constable Fuki,” Makoto says.

“My Queen, I must take you to safety now,” the constable says.

The queen nods, but turns her attention back to Makoto. She touches him briefly on the arm. “You will protect my son at all costs during the duration of this event, yes?”

“It is my honor and duty to protect him, My Queen,” Makoto says. “I swear on my life that I will.”

Queen Nanase gives him a slow, scrutinizing once-over, and Makoto holds his ground, standing as tall as he possibly can. It is at that moment when Makoto realizes that he is not just a knight to the kingdom anymore. His presence is now known, and his relationship with Prince Haruka is profound enough for people to notice – for the queen to notice.

“My Queen?” Constable Fuki says.

“All right,” the queen says, softly. She allows the constable to guide her from the room, but Constable Fuki turns around, looking sharply at Makoto.

“Get to your post, Sir Makoto,” Constable Fuki says. “And stay there.”

“Right away,” Makoto says, following them out of the room.

As Makoto makes his way up to Prince Haruka’s chambers, he tells himself over and over that he can do this. Queen Nanase trusts him enough to protect her son during the lockdown. Makoto has to be the knight that she expects him to be, and if he does his duty right, maybe he will gain the constable’s trusts as well.

However, as Makoto nears closer to the chambers, he becomes increasingly nervous – and it has nothing to do with the impending threat. Being Prince Haruka’s personal guardian may be good for Makoto’s career, but it certainly will not be a good thing for his torn mind. Spending even more time with the prince will not help Makoto’s situation, and Makoto can only imagine what his Brothers will think and say when they hear of his new post.

It is curious how in one instant Makoto getting exactly what he wished for can suddenly feel like the worst thing for him, but he reminds himself that this is not about him.

When Makoto arrives at the prince’s chambers, he takes a few deep breaths and moves hair out of his face. He counts to ten and decides it is time to be professional.

Makoto walks past the drapery and enters the prince’s room with his shoulders back and his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Prince Haruka, I…” Makoto trails off, stopping dead in his tracks.

Makoto was not sure of how he expected Prince Haruka to act in lockdown situations such as this, but he honestly did not expect to find him casually sitting at a stool, painting on a canvas.

Prince Haruka looks from behind his painting, seeming staggered. “What are you doing here?”

Makoto instantly bows, feeling horribly nervous now and slightly embarrassed. He has been in the prince’s chambers before, but for some reason it feels different this time.

“I have been assigned to guard your chambers and your persons for the night,” Makoto explains. “Possibly for the entire duration of the lockdown.”

Prince Haruka does not respond, so Makoto waits, distracted by how loudly he can hear his heart beating. They were talking and laughing just that morning, but Makoto feels out of his element now.

“Really?” Prince Haruka asks in a soft voice, after what feels like hours of silence.

Makoto looks up from the floor to find the prince standing. “By the queen’s order.”

Prince Haruka’s eyes vastly grow. “My mother?”

“Yes,” Makoto says, still not quite believing it himself.

Prince Haruka keeps staring at Makoto, but he soon wipes his hands on his white bedgown that is stained with colorful paint, gesturing a hand. “You may rise,” the prince says.

Makoto slowly stands, and Prince Haruka looks away. Makoto isn’t sure of what to do or say, but he cannot let his nerves interfere with his duty.

“I need to do a sweep of your quarters, My Prince,” Makoto says.

“Someone already has,” Prince Haruka mumbles, leaning against the post of his bed.

“But I haven’t,” Makoto says. “It is my job.”

“As you wish,” Prince Haruka says, his tone saturated with boredom.

Makoto clears his throat and begins searching the areas of the prince’s chambers, trying not to stumble over himself as he checks the bathing room and the balcony. Makoto closes the doors and drapes, making sure everything is sealed and locked.

“I like to keep the doors open while I paint,” Prince Haruka says.

“I am afraid you cannot during a lockdown,” Makoto says. “The castle has to stay on alert, and this means you as well, My Prince.”

Makoto is surprised when Prince Haruka merely sighs.

“This is very serious, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, frowning a little at him. Already Makoto understands what the queen meant – Prince Haruka is stubborn and wants to defy the rules even under impeding threat to his very name.

“It is _always_ serious, Makoto,” Prince Haruka says. “This is not the first lockdown I have been a part of – not even the first threat to my name that I have heard this year. Nothing ever happens besides me not being allowed to go outside until the king declares that all the hysteria was for nothing.”

“Even if that is the case, you and I will both follow procedure,” Makoto says. “Is that understood, Prince Haruka?”

Prince Haruka scoffs and rolls his eyes, merely waving a hand.

Makoto passes by the prince’s art station and looks into the small wardrobe room behind it. He comes back out, nodding. “The chamber is fully secure.”

“What a surprise,” Prince Haruka says, sarcastically. “I think I would have noticed if someone was lurking behind my boots and capes.”

“You’d be surprised, My Prince. Sometimes rebels…” Makoto finds himself trailing off for the second time, his attention focusing to Prince Haruka’s canvas.

For the first time Makoto really looks at the painting. The prince has created a beautiful landscape. A vibrant blue sky and thick waves of green and yellow grass that makes Makoto think of the stables. There is also the beginning of a black shape in the middle of the canvas painting, and Makoto wonders what it will grow in to be.

“Your art is so beautiful,” Makoto breathes, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since returning to the castle.

Prince Haruka gently gasps and rushes over to his station, shooing Makoto away. “That is not for your eyes!” he declares.

“I apologize,” Makoto quickly says, moving out of the way and holding up his hands. “I did not mean to intrude, but it really is incredible.”

“Do not say such things,” Prince Haruka mutters, looking embarrassed. “I have just been practicing with color – nothing more. I will most likely throw this out after I finish.”

Makoto gapes at Prince Haruka, feeling personally offended even though it is not his creation. “Why would you ever do such a thing?” Makoto asks. “It truly is beautiful. I had no idea you were so good.”

Prince Haruka’s ears flush pink for some reason, and he sits once again at his station. “I do not wish to speak of it any further, Sir Makoto.”

Makoto scratches his head, looking curiously at the prince. Usually Prince Haruka is more than eager to boast about his accomplishments, but he always seems terribly modest about his love for art, and now his painting that is no doubt extraordinary. Makoto finds his silly behavior very interesting – and also very sweet.

“As you wish, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says. “Well, I will leave you to your work and station myself outside.”

“You’re leaving?” Prince Haruka promptly asks.

“I will be right outside,” Makoto assures. “I am here all night, so if there is a problem-”

“- I doubt there will be a problem,” Prince Haruka interrupts, his body tensing. “It is only.” The prince looks away and stays quite for a few moments. “You do not have to leave the room just yet,” he adds. “You can stay, if you want.”

Makoto feels a fluttering in his stomach, and he wants to sigh, but he holds it in. As Prince Haruka’s guardian, it is not necessarily against the rules for Makoto to be in his chambers during the lockdown, but Makoto had assumed that Prince Haruka would want to be alone.

It would probably be best for Makoto’s sake if he stayed outside, but being in the room with the prince – hearing his request – tarnishes what little control Makoto thought he possessed. Even if Makoto did want to say no, he could never do such a thing.

“Are you scared to be here alone?” Makoto asks.

Prince Haruka scoffs, his ears completely red now. “Don’t be silly. You know – never mind.”

“No – no, I’ll stay,” Makoto says, nodding. “I, um, I just don’t want to disturb you.”

Prince Haruka relaxes a little. “You are my guardian now, Makoto,” he says. “It is your job to disturb me.”

Makoto laughs. “I suppose this is true.”

Makoto walks over to the wall near the entrance and sits down, setting his helmet down beside him. “How is this, My Prince?” he asks.

Prince Haruka smirks, dipping his head. “Adequate.” He picks up a brush and dips it into his black paint bottle, starts painting again.

Makoto pulls his sword from the sheath, taking out a rag from the small pocket on his belt. He decides to shine his sword while Prince Haruka paints, so his mind stays vigilant.

Makoto finds peace as he quietly tends to his sword, looking up every once in a while to the prince who is also silent, concentrating filmy on his art, honestly having no problem with a commoner knight sitting in his room.

Makoto is completely in awe of the moment. He still cannot process that he is there right now – that the queen would trust him with something so important, or that the prince would ask him to stay for company. Makoto has no idea what he did to deserve such honors, but he is grateful. Feels so incredibly proud – happy that he chose to be a knight.

~~~~

Makoto is not sure of how much time has gone by, but he figures that if he shines his sword any longer then the rag may catch on fire. He places his sword back into the sheath, peeking up at the prince again.

Makoto wishes that there weren’t a canvas blocking the prince’s face, but in truth it is for the best. Makoto already feels too excited just from keeping the prince company. Is thoroughly enjoying the calm, serene space of the room when Makoto is supposed to be ridged and tense.

Makoto’s gaze falls from the canvas to the prince’s feet, which are bare and small – _pretty_. Makoto shakes his head, rubbing his temples. The silence is indeed pleasant, but it has now left too much time for Makoto to just stare and think – to want and imagine things that he shouldn’t, especially while he is on duty.

“You know what I find curious, Prince Haruka?” Makoto asks, when the pleasant stillness becomes far too loud and encompassing for him.

Prince Haruka does not answer Makoto, only continues painting, but Makoto is more than accustomed to his silence by now. After spending so much time with him, Makoto has learned that unless he has questions, talking just isn’t something Prince Haruka bothers himself with often. However, it does not mean that he isn’t listening or doesn’t care.

Makoto is in no way offended by the trait – actually enjoys filling everything in himself, and most of the time Makoto somehow knows what the prince is thinking anyway.

“What I find curious,” Makoto continues in saying, “is that when I took my vows I learned that a lot would be expected of me. I had no idea, however, that attending every formal ball would be one of them.”

Prince Haruka finally makes a noise – something between a scoff and a grumble. “The stupid masquerade,” he says.

Makoto perks up, happy and relieved to hear the prince. “Do you not enjoy these parties?”

“I will not enjoy this one,” Prince Haruka says.

“I must say that I probably will not either,” Makoto confesses. “In truth, I am dreading such an event.”

“For what reason?” the prince asks, still out of view behind his canvas.

“Can you dance?” Makoto asks. “Well, I am assuming that _of course_ you can. You seem to be able to do everything to precision.”

Prince Haruka, at last, looks from behind his canvas, and he is smirking a little. “I manage not to embarrass myself on the dance floor, yes. Why? Can you not dance?”

Makoto bursts into laughter, waving both hands. “I am afraid that I am a horrible dancer, Prince Haruka. Rhythm eludes me.”

Prince Haruka lets out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “Another thing about you I am not surprised to hear.”

“You know I prefer to keep both feet on the ground at all time,” Makoto mutters. “Unless I am on my horse.”

“Unfortunately, your steed will not be able to accompany you into the ballroom,” Prince Haruka teases. “No matter, however. You are a knight to the Nanase kingdom, so as long as you can do the Opening Flection you will be fine.”

Makoto scrunches up his face. “What is the Opening Flection?”

Haru peeks over his canvas again, seeming dumbfounded. “You mean this in jest, correct?”

Makoto shrugs. “Should I know what that is?”

Prince Haruka hangs his head, calmly setting down his paintbrush. He scoots his stool over a little so he can look at Makoto.

“The Opening Flection is the first official gesture of any royal ball,” Prince Haruka explains. “It shows respect for the hosting family and to all of the guests invited. It is required before you can partake in any of the festivities, ask anyone to dance, or even eat and drink at the party.”

“Oh…” Makoto says, feeling stupid. “I did not know there were rules for dancing.”

“How many balls have you been to, Makoto?” Prince Haruka asks.

Makoto rubs his neck that is flushing with embarrassment. “I suppose not enough, Prince Haruka. The only person I have ever really danced with is my sister, and she usually just asks me to spin her around the room or she stands on my feet – no flections required.”

Prince Haruka grins. “That sounds nice.”

“It is,” Makoto says, feeling a wave of nostalgia.

“Well, that will be of no use to you at the masquerade,” Prince Haruka says. “So you should prepare yourself. I know for a fact that you will have to dance at least a few times during the ball. All knights are required to do so.”

“ _No_ ,” Makoto murmurs into his hands. “I might as well ride back home now.”

“You are quite dramatic for a knight, Makoto,” Prince Haruka says, calmly. “You have time, and it really is a simple gesture. I am sure plenty of staff around here or even one of your Brothers can help you.”

“It is far too embarrassing to ask someone around here to teach me something I should already know!” Makoto says, trying not to whine. “And…well, I would not want to ask my Brothers for help on this anyway.”

“Why not?” Prince Haruka asks.

“I just wouldn’t feel comfortable,” Makoto mutters, not really meeting the prince’s eyes. Makoto turns his attention back to his sword, debating if he should start shining it again or panic for looming doom is upon him.

Prince Haruka gives an exasperated sigh and gets up from his stool. “Come on,” he says, nudging his head.

Makoto frowns, wondering if he has now become far too pathetic to even sit with. “What is it, My Prince?”

Prince Haruka gives him a look. “Do not act dim, Makoto. Obviously I have to show you how the gesture is performed.”

Makoto blushes furiously, shaking his head madly. “O-oh, no. That won’t be necessary, Prince Haruka. I appreciate your offer, but I will be all right.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Prince Haruka says, placing a hand on his hip. “And I know that you, in fact, will not be all right. You will let yourself stay ignorant because you are far too embarrassed to ask anyone for help, correct?”

Makoto stutters out nonsense. Prince Haruka has come to understand him far too well, which both excites and terrifies the knight.

“Exactly,” the prince says, filling in the blanks for Makoto this time. “I simply cannot have you insulting my family’s party or the guests that will be joining us that night, Makoto. Now, rise. It is an order.”

Makoto groans and gets up from the floor, wishing that he hadn’t brought up the masquerade at all. Makoto knows that he will utterly embarrass himself in front of the prince, but saying no to him is something Makoto isn’t sure he can do.

“What do I have to do, My Prince?” Makoto reluctantly asks.

“It is quite simple,” Prince Haruka says. “As I approach, you place your right hand on your stomach and hold your other hand out and bow, like a regular greeting.”

“I can do that,” Makoto says, performing the gesture right away.

“Then,” Prince Haruka adds. “You…take the tip of my fingers with your right hand, and do the same greeting again, minus the stomach touch.”

Prince Haruka holds out his hand, like he would if Makoto had to worship his ring. Makoto swallows hard as he holds the tips of Prince Haruka’s delicate fingers, repeating the gesture.

“That was not so hard,” Makoto says.

“It is not complete yet, Makoto,” Prince Haruka says, irritably. “This is very formal, very intricate.”

“O-oh, right,” Makoto says, clearing his throat. “So, what is next?”

Prince Haruka looks at Makoto, his lips pursed, as if debating his words. “Well, now, you take my other hand and we step forward, back, and forward again. Then, you release my left hand, and we end with the same greeting that we started with.”

Makoto tilts his head to side, his lips parting just a little as he stares blankly at the prince. All Makoto knows is that he is supposed to take Prince Haruka’s other hand, but everything else was lost to him.

Prince Haruka quickly catches on that Makoto is a little more than confused, and he nods, clapping his hands together. “Right,” the prince breathes. “Just watch me first.”

Makoto takes a few steps back to give the prince space. Prince Haruka performs the greeting, and then puts up his hands as if he were dancing with someone. Prince Haruka gracefully moves back and forth, ending with the bow in one swift movement. It is over in less than a blink, but it feels like forever to Makoto, and he questions if the prince’s feet ever even touched the ground as he moved.

“See?” Prince Haruka says, smoothing hair out of his face. “Simple.”

Makoto is once again in awe. Prince Haruka is apparently a dolphin in the water, but he floats above the ground like a bird – no wonder his family seal is a raven.

“Wow,” Makoto breathes. “You. You’re perfect doing that.”

The prince smiles quite widely, and his blue eyes seem to sparkle. He dips his head in gratitude. “My thanks. Are you ready to try?”

Makoto merely nods, eager to be a part of something so beautiful.

Makoto performs the first part of the greeting and takes the prince’s fingers, bowing again. They then center, and Makoto takes the prince’s other hand into his own, which Makoto is only now realizing is sweaty and slightly shaky.

Prince Haruka looks up at Makoto – his vast, ocean eyes dowsing Makoto like rain, and Makoto forgets how to breathe. Forgets everything he is supposed to be doing or who he even is. All he is sure of is that Prince Haruka is and forever will be the most beautiful person Makoto has ever seen, and he smells so good, like something elegant and rich and soft and so foreign to the knight.

“Makoto?” the prince says, gently.

“R-right,” Makoto says. He panics, forgetting all the steps already, and he rapidly moves forward, stepping on the prince’s bare feet.

“Makoto!” Prince Haruka groans, dropping his hands.

“I am so sorry!” Makoto says, backing away, his heart racing. “I-I can’t do this, My Prince. I told you – I know nothing about etiquette or dancing or opening reflections.”

Prince Haruka unexpectedly laughs. An honest, hearty laugh that Makoto has never heard before, and all his woe melts away – disintegrates from his body.

Makoto smiles, sighing at such a pretty sound. “Do I amuse you, My Prince?”

“Yes,” Prince Haruka answers, nodding. “Firstly, it’s flection – not reflection.” Prince Haruka covers his mouth as he continues to giggle. The amazing sound goes straight into Makoto’s body, touches his heart, and he has never felt something like this before. Has never had an energy run through him that feels so good.

Makoto gazes at the prince as his laughing fit finally subsides, and Prince Haruka’s blue eyes are so bright. His face a lovely shade of pink.

“Has my knightly persona been tarnished permanently?” Makoto asks.

“Yes again, I’m afraid,” Prince Haruka says. He puts a hand on his hip and shakes his head, giving Makoto a once-over. “You really are dreadful, aren’t you?”

“I would never lie to you, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says. “Even about my faults.”

The prince nods. “Yes, I know.”

“I’m really sorry for hurting you,” Makoto says.

“I will live to see another day,” Prince Haruka says, looking down at his feet and wiggling his toes.

Makoto should sit back down, or return to his post outside the chamber, but he honestly doesn’t want to. Only wants to stay right where he is, and Makoto decides to do what he wants, for once.

“Would you mind if I try again?” Makoto asks.

Prince Haruka considers the requests. “Only if you promise to watch your feet,” he finally decides.

“With all my heart,” Makoto says, placing a hand to his chest.

Prince Haruka takes a breath, looking a bit apprehensive, but he still offers his right hand. They perform the greeting once again, and Makoto takes the prince’s other hand.

“Good,” Prince Haruka says. “Remember: Forward, back, and forward again.”

Makoto nods, swallowing a lump of nerves and feeling so unnecessarily nervous. He has been somewhat close to the prince before, helping him on and off his horse over the time they have spent together, but it has never been like this. They have never been close while also being in the prince’s room, where it is so quiet, and Prince Haruka is merely wearing a bedgown.

Makoto tries to put all of the different thoughts out of his mind as he slowly takes a step forward, leading the prince, who feels weightless. Everything else around them diminishes, and Makoto only knows and sees what is directly in front of him.

“A-all right?” Makoto asks, nervously.

Prince Haruka only nods, keeping his eyes on Makoto, and if Makoto isn’t mistaken, the prince is shaky, too. Makoto can detect every pant of breath coming from the prince – can practically hear Prince Haruka’s long, thick eyebrows gently flickering.

Makoto’s entire body is trembling now. He manages to step back, stumbling a bit, but he stays connected with the prince, and the prince doesn’t let go.

Makoto takes the second step forward, guiding Prince Haruka, and Makoto has no choice but to let himself wish that he could stay this way. That he and Prince Haruka could live in this moment for as long as life will grant them – away from any bandits or kingdoms or people to worry about and answer to.

“S-still correct?” Makoto whispers.

Prince Haruka lets out an uneven breath. “Yes,” he says, just as quietly. “Now, we part and bow.”

“All right,” Makoto says, although he does not let go of the prince.

Makoto understands that he should release Prince Haruka – knows that he _needs_ to do so, but it feels too difficult to attempt, and Makoto honestly is unsure of what he is supposed to do with himself afterward. When he is no longer connected to the prince.

Makoto simply continues gazing at the beautiful man in front of him, hoping that he will understand. Praying that Prince Haruka realizes that Makoto cannot go any further on his own.

Prince Haruka slowly blinks, and he gradually removes his left hand from Makoto’s slight grip, taking a step away. Only then is Makoto able to breathe and blink, too. He holds out his hand, and both he and the prince bow.

Makoto lets Prince Haruka’s other hand go, mostly because he feels too dizzy to stand anymore.

“H-how was that?” Makoto asks.

The prince looks away and down, wetting his lips. “You will definitely need work, but at least you know the steps now.”

“Thank you, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, not really feeling present in his own body. “You are always so kind to me.”

Prince Haruka peeks back up at Makoto, and Makoto has never seen him look so…unsure before. Their eyes connect and Makoto feels even dizzier, wishes their hands were connected again – purely because Makoto wants to be connected again. Wants to be close to the prince and guide him effortlessly around the room.

Makoto opens his mouth, not knowing what he wants or say or what will come out, but before he can utter a breath, the prince abruptly sneezes, breaking Makoto out of the hold he was under.

“Pardon me,” Prince Haruka says, sniffling, looking positively adorable as well as startled by his sneeze.

Makoto giggles, feeling somewhat relieved for the interruption. He pulls out a clean handkerchief from his vest pocket and offers it to the prince. “Not necessary – here. I am assuming that sneeze is due to your gallant stroll through the rain this morning?”

The prince takes the handkerchief, dabbing his nose. “I will be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Makoto asks.

“Yes, it’s nothing,” Prince Haruka assures, not meeting Makoto’s eyes. “I. I should probably rest, however,” he adds. “Just as a precaution.”

“O-of course,” Makoto says. “It is late, and you should get some sleep.”

Makoto looks around, feeling adrift, and he surprised that it is still nighttime. It feels as though years have gone by since Makoto brought up dancing.

“I, um, I will be right outside, if you need me,” Makoto says, retrieving his helmet and sword.

“Wait,” Prince Haruka says. He leaves the room and goes into his bathing chamber, coming back out with Makoto’s green cloak that Makoto gave to him earlier in the day.

“It’s dry now,” Prince Haruka says, giving it to Makoto, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“It appears that it wasn’t much help to you though,” Makoto says, holding the cloak in his arms.

“No, it was,” Prince Haruka says, softly, finally really looking at Makoto again. Prince Haruka seems disoriented as well, but Makoto has no idea why he would be. Makoto is the one who experienced perfection.

Makoto smiles regardless, bowing to the prince. “Good night, Prince Haruka, and thank you for the help.”

“Anytime,” Prince Haruka says, dipping his head, and Makoto easily detects the genuineness in his voice, which makes a warmth stir in his stomach again.

Makoto stumbles back toward the drapery, and he gives Prince Haruka one more smile before leaving the room.

Makoto trips over his feet, and he keeps a hand on the stone wall as he walks a few paces down the corridor and away from the room. His legs soon give out, and Makoto gradually allows himself to collapse, resting his back against the wall and letting his helmet fall to the floor.

Makoto lets out many deep breaths, but his heart continues to gallop; his body continues to tremble, and his hands will not stop tingling – burning with excitement and fear.

Makoto pulls his cloak over his body, taking in the small hint of the prince’s scent. Makoto shudders, and he looks at his hands that held Prince Haruka’s, noticing for the first time that there is a bit of crusted green paint on his right hand. Paint that must have come from the prince’s fingers.

Makoto closes his hand into a fist, holding it against his chest – right at his heart. He lets his eyes droop close as he takes in his feelings, and what he knows to be the absolute truth – a truth that Makoto has been trying to decipherer and deny for ages now.

Makoto smiles, feeling wetness in his eyes as he remembers the stories his mother told him as a boy – about how she and Makoto’s father came to be. How she knew that he was the only man for her, and how it felt to be so certain of something so special and important.

Makoto understands her words now. Feels the profound emotion swelling his heart, and it brings new parts of himself to life. Parts that Makoto did not know could ever exist.

Makoto does not just admire or like the prince. He doesn’t want to spend time with him merely because it’s fun, and Makoto’s need to protect, defend, and do anything for Prince Haruka has nothing to do with it being Makoto’s duty – at least not anymore. The feelings that Makoto has, and the desires that warm his chest are not simply curiosities or something he can dismiss.

Makoto, against everything he is and everything he is supposed to uphold, has completely lost himself.

Makoto has fallen in love with Prince Haruka.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *melts into a puddle* I love writing Makoto.


	8. Caged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not on purpose. It just happens.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! I didn't get this one out as fast as I wanted, but at least it's here now! I'm hoping to get the next chap up very soon...  
> I hope you enjoy! <3

Haru turns in bed and finally opens his eyes to the bright morning. As he lies on his back, giving himself time to adjust to consciousness, a thought dawns on him. Haru suddenly sits up as a fleeting sensation of thrill runs through him. He gets out of bed, moving messy hair out of his face, and he tiptoes to his chamber entrance, peeking outside.

Haru’s gust of thrill is instantly replaced with a calm haze as he sees Makoto sitting against the wall, facing him and sleeping.

Haru stands frozen. Over the past few mornings he has woken up to find Makoto standing with a smile outside his chamber – caught him practicing the Opening Flection once – but this is the first time Haru has ever discovered the knight sleeping.

Haru’s eyes rapidly take in the entire visual: How Makoto’s chest calmly rises and falls as he breathes. The way his hand is loosely circled around his sword sheath, and the pure, profound look of innocence on his face.

Haru leans his head against the wall, releasing the quietest of breaths while he gazes at the knight. Makoto is such a contradiction – still such a mystery – and the feelings that unexpectedly flood Haru are too much for him to handle.

Haru bends down and reaches out his hand, gently shaking Makoto’s arm. Makoto stirs and hums, slowly opening his eyes and lifting his head, and Haru almost loses his breath in the moment.

“Prince Haruka?” Makoto says, rubbing at an eye. He abruptly stops, realizing the situation, and shoots to a stand. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s all right,” Haru says, rising as well.

“I only dozed for a moment,” Makoto says, scrubbing his face of sleep and running his hands through his hair. “I swear I have been awake all morning, My Prince.”

Haru is taken aback. It’s early, but already he feels vaguely annoyed. It is a testament to how much the knight rattles him – that Makoto can make Haru utterly entranced in one instant then stiffly irritated a breath later.

“Makoto, settle yourself,” Haru says, calmly. “I will not banish you for being human – especially not this early in the morning.”

Makoto gives Haru a once-over and soon relaxes. “Of course, My Prince,” he says. “Might I try again?”

Haru gestures a hand, and Makoto bows, looking up at Haru and grinning.

“Good morning, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says.

“And to you, Sir Makoto,” Haru replies, dipping his head.

“Did you sleep well?” Makoto asks.

“Adequately,” Haru says – though it is not quite the truth. Even with the castle on lockdown, Haru has found himself sleeping better the past few nights than he has in some time.

“Well, that is truly great,” Makoto says, peeking down at his boots. “Sleep, um, it is a good thing.”

Haru looks at Makoto curiously, wondering why the knight is suddenly nervous and shy. It is another event that has taken place over the course of the lockdown – Makoto losing his nerve in front of Haru.

“Sir Makoto,” Rei says from behind them, carrying a meal platter. “You are relieved for the morning. The constable wants you to refresh and train in the armory.”

“Right away,” Makoto says. He gives Haru a small smile before quickly walking away and down the corridor.

Haru stays in place, feeling perplexed, and Rei holds up the platter.

“Breakfast, My Prince? I present mackerel,” Rei cheerfully says.

Haru blankly stares at his gentlemen then rolls his eyes, sighing as he goes back into his chamber.

“And a happy morning to you as well,” Rei says rather sarcastically, setting Haru’s food on the bed. “Have I already annoyed Prince Haruka with my presence?”

“You always do,” Haru mumbles, sitting on the floor. “I presume the platter means that I am bound to my room again today?”

“Not exactly,” Rei says. “I have heard talk of the lockdown ending soon. You are free to travel about the castle as you please – albeit not alone.”

“That still sounds like confinement to me,” Haru snaps.

Rei gets on the floor next to Haru, giving the prince his all-knowing stare that annoys Haru to no end.

“It is not my fault,” Rei says.

“What are you talking about now?” Haru asks, not looking at him.

“I dismissed Sir Makoto because I was ordered to,” Rei says. “The constable wants all the in-house knights to session in the armory some point during the day to maintain their vigilance. It is simply his rotation.”

Haru feels foolish for being upset at all – even more so for calming down at Rei’s words. He vaguely nods, still deciding to keep his focus averted.

Rei stands up. “I will make your bath. Is there anything else you require of me?”

“No,” Haru says. “I suppose I will spend the day in here – again.”

“I will return later to check on your state,” Rei says, looking sympathetic. “If you wish to roam about, I will arrange it for you.”

Rei leaves to fetch water, and Haru tugs off his bedgown in agitation. He begins stretching, extending his muscles to help release the pent-up, furious energy that only ever comes when he is confined like this – caged like a bird. He is not even allowed to have his balcony open at night. No welcoming, transcending smell of the ocean drifting over him as he dreams.

Haru gets on his back and lifts his hips, putting all his weight on his shoulders and elbows as he bends his legs closer to his chest. The only time he doesn’t feel like he is smothering is at night. When Makoto comes from behind the drapery for guard duty.

Haru exhales evenly, gradually lowering his legs, thinking about the first night of the lockdown. How surprised he was at finding out Makoto would be his guardian; how he was less surprised to discover what a clumsy dancer the knight is, and the small space of time when they looked at each other and everything else simply vanished.

“You certainly look better,” Rei says, coming back into the room with buckets of water. “Daydreaming about whale watching again?”

Haru turns his head to Rei, throwing his bedgown right at his gentleman’s face.

~~~

After Haru completes his morning routine he sits on his bed – fed, bathed, and dull. He considers painting, but he does not have the focus. He ponders resting, but he is far too awake. The longer Haru sits and thinks about what he can possibly do, the more he realizes that what he wants right now – _who_ he wants – is Makoto.

Haru desires to see Makoto again, sooner than nightfall, and for no reason other than wanting to be in his company. Haru has come to accept that he has somehow woven a relationship with the silly, genuine knight. Something akin to companionship – but different in all the ways Haru still does not understand.

Whatever they have, he currently wants it – and as a prince Haru is more than accustomed to getting what he wants exactly when he demands it.

Haru gets up from bed, deciding to damn everyone’s rules. He pulls on his boots and leaves the chambers. His destination: The Armory.

Haru is quiet on his feet as he takes the long, less frequented path to the armory, slipping out of sight whenever he nears a guard. He feels entirely comfortable being cunning. He has had years to perfect his devious behavior, and the route he takes is familiar. One he used as a boy every time he would sneak out of his room to gaze at all the weapons, always feeling so staggered that there were so many tools his family supplied to hurt people.

Haru smirks as he creeps behind a guard, quietly hurrying down the curved, stone stairwell to the armory. He can hear Makoto’s voice halfway down the stairs, so he slows down as he nears the bottom step, peeking around the corner.

Haru sees Makoto and another knight, stripped of their armor and sparring. While the second solider evaporates from Haru’s attention, his focus narrows to Makoto.

“Break through, Tachibana,” the knight says, holding up his sword. “You’re still holding back.”

“I’m not,” Makoto pants, his voice sharp. He holds up his sword as well. “Again.”

Makoto thrusts his sword forward, charging, and he and knight begin sparring. They swing at each other, clashing the blunt edges of their weapons together. Haru follows Makoto as he moves about the combating zone, grunting and sweating through his tunic as he fights his Brother, his exposed biceps flexing with so much muscle.

Haru is amazed. He can’t believe that the man he caught sleeping so innocently is the same solider fighting – training to defend. Training to hurt people. If Makoto is holding back, Haru thinks the reason should be obvious to everyone.

The other knight plunges his sword at Makoto, and Makoto stumbles as he counterstrikes, which does not surprise Haru. He may not be very knowledgeable in sparring, but he knows Makoto. The knight has so much strength and power, but he has proven to be anything but graceful on his feet.

From Makoto’s stumble, the other knight gains the upper hand. He pushes forward into Makoto, hitting the blunt of his blade against Makoto’s stomach and slamming his elbow into Makoto’s face.

Haru quietly gasps as Makoto staggers backward, almost dropping his sword. He bends over, wheezing, and when he looks up there is blood on his mouth. Makoto glowers, sucking on his lip then rudely spitting out crimson.

A shiver rattles down Haru’s spine, and he feels hot even though he isn’t doing anything.

“What was that for?” Makoto rasps.

The other knight casually swings his sword, looking so arrogant that Haru wants to hit his face – give him a matching cutup lip.

“Because you deserved it,” the knight says. “What are you thinking about when you wield your sword? What’s your motivation?”

Makoto rises to a stand, wiping his mouth, and just from the tension in his face Haru can tell that Makoto is tired of hearing the question.

“The kingdom,” Makoto answers. “I think about my duty. My honor.”

“Is that all?” the knight asks.

Makoto rubs his neck. “My family. I do this for them.”

The other knight taps his foot, not seeing impressed for some reason.

“We are all here for honor and family, Tachibana,” the knight says. “But if you want to be able to block out how fucking awful our job is sometimes then you have to go deeper.”

The knight suddenly pushes Makoto, and Makoto stumbles back.

“See? That is not good enough!” the other knight shouts.

“I understand – not good enough!” Makoto groans, pulling at his hair and looking positively upset with himself. So guilty and disappointed.

“Then stand your ground and fight for something real,” the knight commands. “Fucking let go and do what must be done – or else whatever it is will be taken away from you.”

Although the armory is not well lit, even from Haru’s position he can see how much darker Makoto’s green eyes turn. The knight pushes at Makoto, and Makoto stands his ground, grabbing the knight’s arms and shoving him away with a boisterous grunt.

“Yes!” the knight says. “Are you ready?”

Makoto holds up his sword, looking firm and alert – primal.

“Again,” Makoto rasps.

The other knight raises his sword and charges. Makoto blocks the shot, counter striking with a perfect swing of his blade.

The heat on Haru’s bodies spreads, and his heart swells so much that he thinks it may burst. He and Makoto may come from different worlds. Are practically different species – a gentle land beast and a captive sea creature – but they react exactly the same when achieving nirvana in their craft.

Just like when Haru performs a perfect stroke through the water, feeling as though the water is reaching out and inviting him deeper in, Haru can tell by the way Makoto moves with fierce precision and grace that he has reached serenity, and whatever Makoto’s true motivation is brought him there.

Makoto slams the blunt of his sword against the other knight’s, wielding them both with his strength and disarming his Brother, shoving him away.

The knight’s sword clinks as it hits the floor, and every other sound in the room disappears. Both the knights pant as they stare at each other, like either is unsure of what just happened.

“I think you’ve got it,” the knight says. “That was perfect.”

Makoto twitches a smile. “Thank you.”

“Whatever was in your mind, keep it there,” the other knight says, picking up his sword. “It will keep you safe – keep us all safe.”

Makoto’s smile grows, and he looks down at his boots – in the same way he as earlier that morning with Haru.

“I will,” Makoto says, in a gentler voice. “Thank you for helping, um, get me there.”

The other knight grips Makoto’s shoulder. “If you’re there then we all succeed. Welcome to Brotherhood, Tachibana.”

Makoto laughs a little. “I’m still learning.”

“Learn faster,” the knight says, looking bleak. “This lockdown might be over soon, but the factions are growing. We could be sent on campaigns.”

“For how long?” Makoto asks, seeming just as grim.

The knight shrugs. “Days, weeks, months – we won’t know until we get the order.”

Makoto rubs his temple, closing his eyes. “I wish all this would stop.”

The other knight frowns, raising an eyebrow. “We’re knights. We do not wish for anything. We just do our job.” He picks his sword. “I have to refresh and get back to my post. Don’t forget to clean up afterwards.”

“As always,” Makoto says.

The knight nods to Makoto and begins heading for the stairwell.

Haru panics, forgetting that he was on the stairs. He feels so distracted by everything he just witnessed, and he is not able to move fast enough backward. As the knight bursts up the stairwell, he bumps into Haru.

“Prince Haruka?” the knight says, his eyes flashing. “I certainly beg your pardon.” He smiles, extending his arm and sticking his hand out against the wall, blocking Haru’s way forward. “Are you lost, My Prince? You are not supposed to be here.”

Haru takes a step back. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Oh?” the knight says. “Anyone in particular? Because if you are merely browsing, I might have something you want.”

The knight’s words hit Haru at his core. He has heard plenty of banter from soldiers over the years, but those particular words flow deep within him. Flow so deep that Haru cannot simply roll his eyes or use his authority. He loses his voice and the strength in his legs to move.

Haru’s mind fogs, but in the dark smoke Makoto appears, and he suddenly remembers that his guardian is close by. Haru unconsciously tugs on his earlobe – the signal he and Makoto created at the market coming back to him like muscle memory.

“Cute – what’s that?” the knight asks, extending his other arm next to Haru’s shoulder.

The knight’s back is slammed against the wall, and Makoto is suddenly right in front of his face, bumping his solid chest into him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Makoto asks his Brother.

The knight rolls his eyes. “Control yourself, Tachibana,” he says. “I was simply talking to the prince.”

“Is that so?” Makoto asks, his voice raising. He looks to Haru. “Do you wish to speak to him?”

Haru doesn’t know how to respond, and he feels somewhat startled to be included in the exchange. All he can do is shake his head.

Makoto turns back to his Brother, towering over him. “Prince Haruka says that he does not wish to speak with you. I’ll ask again – what the hell are you doing?”

The knight pushes Makoto back. “You really are a bastard these days, Tachibana. Where was all of this before?”

The knight turns to leave, and Makoto outstretches his arm to stop him.

“I meant what I said in the barracks – to everyone,” Makoto says, using the full length of his height and shoulders. “So, if you want to spar again, we can forgo the weapons all together.”

The knight glares at Makoto, and Haru can tell that he does not want to back down – but even if he could gain the upper hand on Makoto in swordplay – no solider in the entire castle could possibly win against him in a regular fight.

The knight sighs, obviously conceding, and turns to Haru. “My apologies, Prince Haruka.”

“Much better,” Makoto says.

The knight shoves Makoto’s arm away and grumbles at him before heading up the stairwell. Makoto keeps his eyes alert and his stance firm until his Brother is completely out of sight. Then, he finally turns to Haru, softening completely.

“Are you all right, Prince Haruka?” Makoto asks.

Haru pauses before answering. He feels so caught up by how Makoto can instantly revert to being gentle and caring after showing such menace, threatening a fellow soldier.

“I’m fine,” Haru says. “He was just rude.”

Makoto exhales deeply. “What did he say?”

“It does not matter,” Haru quickly answers.

“Prince Haruka-”

“ - honestly, I am all right,” Haru assures. “You got here a second after he started talking to me.”

Makoto appears skeptical, but he nods. “I apologize for my Brother, and for what you had to see between us.”

Haru ponders the exchange – why Makoto is apparently a bastard and what he could have possibly said in the barracks to the other knights.

“Do you argue with them a lot?” Haru asks.

“No,” Makoto says. “Well, lately maybe.”

Makoto briefly looks down at his boots, biting his lip hard. When he relaxes his mouth, there is red present again.

“You’re bleeding,” Haru says.

Makoto seems lost for a moment, but he soon touches his lip. “Oh. I cut it earlier. I suppose I shouldn’t bite.”

Makoto takes a swipe at his mouth, exposing more crimson, and Haru mindlessly reaches into his vest, pulling out the handkerchief that Makoto gave to him.

“Come here,” Haru says, quietly.

Makoto’s eyes grow, his chest heaving a little faster and his ears glowing pink, but he bends down somewhat regardless.

“Thank you,” Makoto says, closing his eyes.

Haru swallows hard and tries not to shake as he reaches up, putting the cloth to Makoto’s mouth. Makoto shudders, parting his lips a little, and his movements seem more instinctive then calculated. Haru dabs Makoto’s lip, questioning why he is doing this – getting so close – and he hopes that Makoto at least keeps his eyes closed.

“I-I heard your voice,” Makoto whispers. “I could not be sure until I looked over, saw you tugging on your ear. I can’t believe you actually remembered.”

Haru stops dabbing, looking right at Makoto’s closed eyes. “You shouldn’t talk while I do this.”

“Right – sorry,” Makoto says, flinching when Haru presses over the cut.

Haru dabs more gently, roaming over Makoto’s face as the open cut eventually stops flowing. Makoto’s eyes are closed as they were that morning, but the peace isn’t there – his innocence spotted with blood – and after what Haru witnessed during the sparring, it is remarkable that Makoto is able to find peace at all in sleep.

“Prince Haruka?” Makoto quietly asks, opening his eyes. “How did you know I was down here? Did you hear my voice, too?”

Haru blushes, looking away. “Do you not remember this morning? I was there when you were told to come here.” He gives the handkerchief back to Makoto, and the knight grows more serious.

“That’s right, I forgot,” Makoto says, clutching the spotted cloth.

Haru only nods, instantly regretting not answering Makoto’s question with an honest yes.

“Prince Haruka, I must ask what you are up to,” Makoto says. “How did you get here?”

Haru rolls his eyes at such a silly question. “I learned to walk several years ago, Makoto.”

“Very clever,” Makoto says, grinning, “but you should not be this estranged from your chambers. I will take you back.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Haru says. “I did not get here by mistake.”

“But being here _is_ a mistake,” Makoto urges. “You are not allowed to go anywhere without a guardian in the first place.”

“My guardian is here,” Haru says, gesturing to Makoto. “I think that solves the problem.”

Makoto sighs, rubbing his temple. “Do you have to be stubborn about this?” he asks. “It’s for your own safety – as proven only a moment ago.”

Haru looks away again, now feeling embarrassed to being so weak in front of the knights.

“That was not real danger – just typical knightly behavior,” Haru says.

“Either way – I’m escorting you back,” Makoto says, taking Haru’s elbow.

“No, you are not!” Haru says, yanking his arm away. “I understand that I wasn’t myself earlier, but I am still a prince. I do not have to answer to you.”

Haru folds his arms over his chest, making his presence and ruling known. Makoto’s expression hardens, and Haru glowers right back. However, the agitation that he has for Makoto in the moment does not feel like pure anger. There is an excitement in the heat, and Haru can feel it deep within his muscles.

Makoto steps up to Haru, and Haru holds his ground. He does not feel scared, but he can also easily tell that Makoto is not trying to be threatening, merely assertive.

“You have to answer when I am your guardian and this castle is on lockdown,” Makoto says.

“Or else what?” Haru asks, knowing that he sounds like a child.

Makoto actually grins. “I will heave you over my shoulder kicking and screaming – like I have to do to my little brother sometimes when he refuses to go to bed.”

Haru scoffs, turning around and pointing out his chin. “You are incredibly rude.”

Makoto laughs. “I am a lot of things today, apparently.”

Haru turns back to him, still pouting, and Makoto grows serious again.

“Will you at least tell me why you are here?” Makoto asks. “At the armory?”

Haru knows why, but he cannot say it to him. Just as Haru knows that he cannot tell Makoto what he witnessed earlier, but he doesn’t want to lie either.

“I wanted to get out of my room,” Haru says. “I figured that if I am here with you – my guardian – then I would have the best chance at some freedom.”

“I can understand,” Makoto says, nodding. “But, um, Prince Haruka, there’s nothing special happening down here. Now that I am alone, I will probably tend to the weapons.”

“I don’t mind,” Haru says. “I…here is better than my chambers.”

Makoto’s eyes soften, and he considers Haru’s words for a moment. “All right, Prince Haruka,” he says, “but once I am finished I will escort you back one way or another.”

Haru frowns, wanting to retort, but there is no way that he will ever entertain the idea of Makoto physically dragging him back to his room.

“Fair enough,” Haru says, conceding.

Makoto walks back down the stairwell, and Haru follows him into the sparring area. Makoto picks up his chainmail and cloak, dropping it onto the floor against the wall.

“Sit there,” Makoto says, “and please be careful.”

“I will give my best effort avoiding the daggers armory ghosts will unquestionably throw at me,” Haru says, sitting down.

Makoto pales. “A-armory ghosts?”

Haru deadpans. “Sarcasm, Makoto.”

“O-oh – right,” Makoto says, rubbing the back of his head and smiling.

Makoto begins tending to the weapons, checking the handles of axes and polishing the blades of swords. Haru observes, quiet and still, thinking again about what truly motivates the knight before him. What forces him to a place where he can effortlessly wield a sword and strike with absolute purpose.

Haru peers down at his hands. He knows what would be his anchor; it is the same one he has now. Haru would fight to be free – to do what genuinely makes him happy. To have the option of being with someone he wants instead of who is chosen for him.

Haru suddenly gets up, needing a distraction, and walks over to Makoto.

“You certainly lack respect for authority today,” Makoto says. “I thought you promised to start listening to me?”

“If there was a horse here I would,” Haru says.

Haru skims over the arsenal of weapons stilted in wooden racks and hooked on the wall. He fingers the handle of a two-handed axe.  

“That one is really heavy,” Makoto says.

Haru tries to lift the axe from the rack, and halfway through his pull he feels as though his knees may explode.

“Careful,” Makoto says, rushing over and taking the axe. “I told you it was heavy.”

Haru gives Makoto a sharp look, keeps browsing, and he picks up another weapon. It is a thin sword that he can easily pull out.

Makoto giggles but quickly covers his mouth. Haru tilts his head, silently asking what is so amusing.

Makoto receives the message, shaking his head. “Nothing, Prince Haruka. It is not amusing as much as it is…odd. It’s _very_ odd seeing you with a sword.”

Haru scoffs. “Pardon you, Knight Tachibana, but I will be king someday.”

Makoto only giggles more. “I’m sorry, My Prince. Yes, I do know that you will be king, but it is easy to forget that after your little fit.”

Haru glares, feeling annoyed yet also pleased that Makoto seems happier. He turns the sword in his hand. “This is rather light.”

“Some swords are,” Makoto says. “It depends on attack style.”

“Is yours heavy?” Haru asks.

“Very,” Makoto says, turning his sword as well.

Haru carelessly swings the sword, feeling no real connection with it. Even as a boy his curiosity was more in observing all the weapons, taking in all the different types and how they shine. He has never had much interest wielding one, and Haru’s father always tells him how problematic that is.

“Do you have much experience with swords?” Makoto asks.

“Some,” Haru says. “Next summer I start my extensive training.”

“I am pleased to hear this,” Makoto says. “You need to be able to defend yourself.”

“I can defend myself now,” Haru says, pointing out his sword. “At least to some extent.”

Makoto looks skeptical. “Sparring is not as easy as it may appear, Prince Haruka.”

“I do not think it appears easy,” Haru says. “But I am sure I wouldn’t be completely helpless right now.”

Makoto sighs, holding up his sword. “All right.”

“Pardon?” Haru asks.

“Charge at me,” Makoto says, casually. “With everything you’ve got.”

Haru opens his mouth but realizes that he can’t exactly back down now. It would only make him look foolish.

“Fine,” Haru says, rolling back his shoulders.

Haru has no idea what he’s doing, but he takes a deep breath and strikes forward anyway. In less than a breath Makoto disarms him with a flick of his sword, Haru’s weapon crashing to the ground. Makoto appears genuinely sympathetic for such a pitiful display, and it only annoys the prince.

“My apologies, Prince Haruka, but proper sword skill is not something to take lightly,” Makoto says. “You need to understand that.”

Haru’s face flushes. “Is it typical to apologize after you best someone?” he asks, picking up his sword as gracefully as possible.

“I am probably not the right person to ask,” Makoto says. He rubs his neck. “But for you I will. Not only am I a professional, but I can’t imagine how much weight I have on you.”

Haru waves a hand. “I’m sure that even you know it is not always about brute force.”

“That is certainly true,” Makoto says. “Being agile has many advantages.” He leans against the wall. “In fact, why don’t you show me what you have learned over the years. Let me see your natural form.”

“That would be more pointless than my last demonstration,” Haru confesses.

Makoto chuckles. “Don’t worry, Prince Haruka. I only want to help you.”

“My decision stands,” Haru says, firmly.

Makoto bounces on his feet, looking younger by the second. “Oh, please? I can face the wall if it makes you more confident.”

Haru can’t help it – he grins a little. “That is sarcasm, Makoto.”

Makoto beams, and Haru sighs, raising his sword. He has no idea what to do – _again_ – but Makoto asked him. That is reason enough for Haru to at least try.

“It’s all right,” Makoto assures. “Whatever you remember or have seen.”

Haru nods, taking a deep breath. He tries to recall what he learned from his instructors over the years, adding it to what he witnessed from Makoto. He begins cutting through the air with his sword, finding it a lot harder to concentrate while moving, but he does his best. Attempts with everything he has not to look like a dunce with Makoto’s gaze following him.

Haru fumbles with the sword as he spins around and twists the weapon, so he decides to stop while he still possesses his dignity.

Haru moves hair out of his eyes, surprised by how much he’s sweating. “How was I?”

Makoto blinks as if dazed, pushing himself off the wall. “Well, you lack any real technique, but your footwork has a solid base.”

Haru bows his head in thanks.

Makoto exhales, lazily grinning. “I am sure you would be just as graceful on the battlefield as you would be…on the ballroom floor.”

Haru briefly looks away. “One would definitely be easier than the other.”

Makoto averts his gaze as well. “Do you want me to show you some actual technique?” he asks, shrugging. “Basic structure?”

Try as Haru does to fight it – Makoto’s current dose of shyness is contagious, and Haru finds himself feeling coy.

“More teachings for the ignorant prince?” Haru asks.

Makoto puts a hand over his heart. “A genuine thank you for teaching a clumsy knight how to dance.”

Haru smiles. “I would like that very much.”

“Great,” Makoto says. He looks down for a moment. “Would it be all right if I get closer to show you?”

Haru blinks; he should consider it but he doesn’t want to.

“Yes,” Haru answers.

Makoto nods and takes Haru’s weapon. He stands right behind Haru – not so close that they touch – but enough for Haru to feel Makoto’s body heat on his neck and back.

Makoto outstretches his sword hand next to Haru’s shoulder. “See how I’m gripping the hilt?” he asks.

Haru tries his best not to shiver. “Yes.”

“I have my thumb curved because when I strike, I will already be in a turning position,” Makoto explains, twisting the sword. “This way I’ll always be ready to counter.”

Makoto takes a step back, and Haru turns around.

“Like so,” Makoto says, plunging a step forward and extending the sword. “Try it,” he adds, handing the sword back to Haru.

Haru holds the sword the way Makoto had, dashing forward and thrusting the weapon.

“Very good,” Makoto says. “I suppose defending off a pivot is fairly simple also.”

“Will you show me?” Haru asks – without a second thought.

Makoto appears just as excited as Haru realizes he feels.

“Of course, My Prince,” Makoto breathes. “May I?”

“Yes,” Haru answers straight away.

Makoto gets behind Haru – standing too close yet not close enough again.

“Now,” Makoto says, his voice vaguely shaky. “I want you to pivot off your left foot and draw back your sword, like you’re dodging a disarm.”

Haru grips his weapon tightly, feeling confined but in a good way. He pivots back and unexpectedly collides with Makoto’s chest. Haru gasps, stepping forward.

“You didn’t move,” Haru says, swallowing thickly.

“That’s because you don’t need much space,” Makoto says. “If you crash into me it means you’re moving too far back, and you might lose momentum if you counterstrike. Try again.”

Haru lets out an unsteady breath, re-gripping his sword. He pivots back and collides into Makoto again.

“This is impossible!” Haru groans.

“No, it’s simply new,” Makoto says. “Try again.”

Haru breathes hard through his nose, rolling his neck. He pivots again and collides into Makoto; a second time Haru merely bumps him, and after a third attempt he finally strikes back and touches nothing but air. Haru does it one more time for good measure, feeling accomplished when he pivots correctly.

“I finally did it!” Haru says, turning around.

Makoto moves a step back, seeming proud. “It just takes time,” he says. “Why don’t you try putting those two moves together? Strike and fall into a defensive pivot.”

Haru does not hesitate. He holds his sword out like Makoto showed him, then launches forward with his weapon, pivoting off his left foot and striking back the sword.

Makoto claps his hands, bouncing on his feet. “You are absolutely amazing, Prince Haruka. That was brilliant!”

“My thanks,” Haru says politely, dipping his head. He wipes his forehead. “I never knew there was such intricacy in sparring.”

“At the professional level there has to be,” Makoto says.

Haru nods, pointing his sword at Makoto.

Makoto grins. “Do you wish to fight me?”

“No,” Haru answers.

“I am sure the thought has risen,” Makoto says. “At least today.”

Haru smirks, lowering his sword. “I assure that you are safe. I have little interest in this activity.”

“Not even when you were a boy?” Makoto asks. “You never played swords with your gentleman?”

Haru wants to roll his eyes at the mere thought of such a thing. “Rei spent most of our childhood telling me things he learned from my tutoring scrolls. No, it was my…Prince Kisumi always wanted to sword play.”

“That is who we are honoring at the masquerade, correct?” Makoto asks.

“Yes,” Haru says. “He always wanted to spar, but it ended the same way every time with a silly game of blade tag.”

Makoto gasps. “I played the same game! My word, peasants and princes have more in common than I ever dreamed.”

Haru never enjoyed the game – never understood the point – but seeing Makoto’s enthusiasm and gaining another connection with him makes Haru feel somewhat pleased as well.

“It was the only game he wanted to play a lot of the time,” Haru says.

“Prince Kisumi seems fantastic,” Makoto says in earnest. “I hope I get to meet him.”

The pleasantness in Haru dies. He turns his head, placing a hand on his hips.

“Your wish will most certainly be granted,” Haru says, curtly. “Prince Kisumi is highly sociable.”

“That’s curious,” Makoto says, gently.

Haru raises an eyebrow, questioning with his eyes.

“Your situation is curious,” Makoto says. “It seems as though you chose to surround yourself with people who are different from you.”

Haru is taken aback. He is not accustomed to such inquiries, and the question at hand is not something he has ever really thought about or noticed. Haru doesn’t want to give too much of himself away, but he feels it might be fair considering what he witnessed on the stairwell.

“It’s not on purpose,” Haru says. “It just happens.”

Makoto nods, briefly looking down at his boots. “Do you think it is a good thing? Having someone close to you who is different from you?”

Haru is once more caught off guard, but he decides to answer truthfully. Doesn’t feel a need to hold back in the moment.

“I think if a person is lucky enough to find someone worth getting close to, nothing else should matter,” Haru says.

Makoto sighs, closing his eyes. Haru merely waits in place, wondering why the air is harder to breathe, and why his heart is beating so much faster. It’s quiet – too quiet – and Makoto’s reaction is only drawing Haru’s attention more to the fact that they are stifled and alone in the armory.

“You are an incredibly kind person, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, tenderly, once he regains his composure.

Haru has to look away, and he cringes inwardly. Most of Makoto’s compliments he can take without problem, but some phrases are just too sweet and sincere for Haru to swallow and take to the chest.

“My kindness varies from person to person,” Haru says, waving a hand.

Makoto chuckles. “And how do I fare?”

“In general or only for today?” Haru asks.

“Let’s focus on today,” Makoto says, picking up his own sword and smirking.

Haru grips his a bit harder, narrowing his eyes and taking a small step back.

“It depends,” Haru says, slowly. “Why are you smirking? You don’t do that unless you are feeling smug about something.”

Makoto laughs, taking a step closer. “The ever observant Prince Haruka,” he teases. “You should be able to see where this is going.”

Haru takes another step back, curving around a brick pillar that holds a torch.

“I understand that reminiscing is important to you, Makoto,” Haru says. “But I must insist that the memory only stays a memory.”

“I will be very careful with you, I promise,” Makoto says, raising his sword.

“Safety is not my issue,” Haru answers, holding his up as well. “I already stated that I have never enjoyed this game.”

Makoto stops stalking him, sighing and nodding. “Fair enough, Prince Haruka. Perhaps during the masquerade I will ask Prince Kisumi if he wants to play.”

Haru drops his jaw, gasping. Makoto’s wicked smirk grows, and a spike of anger rattles Haru. He glares at Makoto, blushing, and hits the broad of his sword against the knight’s.

“I tagged you,” Haru says through gritted teeth, but Makoto only seems happier, and Haru soon catches on to the fact that he has been conned.

“I suppose it is my turn?” Makoto asks.

Haru opens his mouth to protest, but Makoto rumbles like a dog and Haru yelps, moving out of the way right as Makoto pounces.

Makoto chases Haru around the armory, and Haru tries his best to avoid him – dodge his tags – but it is not long before Makoto clinks their swords together. Haru’s competitive nature will not stand for it, and he concludes that a game has officially begun.

Haru and Makoto continuously dodge and tag, grunting and pushing at each other when their swords hit. Haru gathers that Makoto is not really trying – the game being more about how many times Haru can tag. Instead, Makoto focuses purely on the way Haru moves, striking and shoving back only when it seems safe and in rhythm with the prince.

Haru doesn’t mind the bloated kindness. He does not mind the smell of the armory or how his garments stick to him more and more as they spar about the space. All he cares about is that he is having fun. He and Makoto are having fun together like young boys who have no cares in the world and have known each other for centuries. Haru finds himself laughing after awhile. Finds himself losing his balance as the innocence spreads inside him.

Makoto makes a dash at Haru, rumbling again. Haru laughs, dodging out of the way and tripping over his feet in the process, dropping his sword. Makoto grabs Haru’s arm but not in time as he falls forward against a wall.

“Are you all right?” Makoto asks through his laughter. “Was that my fault?”

“No, I got distracted,” Haru says, flipping over.

Haru silently gasps as he sees Makoto right in front of him, his arms outstretched on either side of his shoulders, casing Haru in his warmth and curious scent of sweat and weapon polish.

“I’m…all right,” Haru breathes.

“Good,” Makoto says, just as quietly.

Haru feels a twisting pressure in his lower stomach, and he has to do something. Has to stop noticing how gently Makoto is gazing at him, or how his mouth still looks so soft even with a cutup lip.

“Thank you for earlier, with your Brother,” Haru says, randomly. “It must be difficult to choose sides.”

Makoto’s eyes soften. “Do not thank me. The decision was easy.”

Haru scrubs his face, not caring how rude or random the gesture may be. He needs to clear his mind – rid his body of grime and stiffening heat that just will not go away. Haru does not know why Makoto isn’t taking a step back from him, and he cannot understand the reason for not wanting to move either. Companions get close, but not like this.

“How do people stay down here for so long?” Haru asks, swiping his cheek.

Makoto gently laughs, and Haru feels it is safe to look at him again.

“Pardon?” Haru asks.

“You smeared dirt on your face,” Makoto says.  

“Oh?” Haru says, peeking at his grimy hands. “Perfect,” he mutters. Haru swipes at his cheek with the back of his hand.

Makoto laughs again. “That only made it worse, Prince Haruka.”

“I can’t exactly see it!” Haru complains. “Where is it?”

Makoto points next to Haru’s nose. “There.”

Haru wipes where Makoto is pointing, but Makoto keeps shaking his head.

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” Haru says, stomping his foot.

Makoto rolls his eyes. “No, My Prince. It’s right…”

Makoto trails off, reaching out but stopping halfway to Haru’s face, like he is only now discovering the situation.

The humor in Makoto’s expression disappears, and he slowly blinks, keeping his hand frozen in the air. Haru does move either. Doesn’t do anything but stare back at Makoto.

Things around them begin to fade, and Haru experiences the same sensation he felt when they danced together in his chamber – when everything else utterly vanished. However, the feeling is more intense now. They are not simply dancing. What is happening in the moment between them is completely informal, yet feels like something that is not meant to be casual.

“It’s right here,” Makoto whispers, sounding far away.

Makoto touches Haru’s cheek with his fingertip, next to his nose. Haru’s breathing hitches, his shoulders stiffening, but he keeps his eyes open. Keeps watching the knight that has him so entangled with his all-encompassing green eyes, and a soft touch that Haru can somehow feel in his toes.

Makoto swallows hard, staring at his finger as if he is concentrating, and his gaze suddenly flickers and connects with Haru’s. Haru’s heart erupts, his body flooding with excitement and fear and yearn. Makoto is certainly too close now, yet still not close enough. Haru has let his guard down at exactly the wrong time, yet just at the perfect moment.

Makoto lets out a weak, small sigh. Then slowly, gently begins to drag his finger down the curve of Haru’s cheek.

The reaction is instantaneous: Haru’s bones dissolve as his eyelids droop, and a feeble, desperate noise that is out of his control breaks free from him. It is a sound that Haru has never heard himself make before. One that has apparently never needed to be unleashed until now – because no touch has ever managed to penetrate whatever blockades keep it imprisoned.

“S-stop,” Haru pants. Before he can realize what he’s doing, he brushes Makoto’s hand away and instinctively coils from the touch – away from whatever awakening powers Makoto has over his body.

Haru opens his eyes, breathing hard. Makoto is gawking at him, flushed and gaping. His green eyes so big and startled – scared and unsure.

Makoto opens and closes his mouth several times, shaking his head and looking utterly lost. “P-Prince. Prince Haruka-”

“- what is the meaning of this?” Rei says, storming into the armory.

Rei looks between Haru and Makoto, his face growing more and more concerned. Makoto drops his arms, and Haru slides further away.

“Prince Haruka, what are you doing here?” Rei asks, walking closer. “Knight Tachibana, what are you doing here with him?”

Haru stumbles off the wall, not making eye contact with anyone.

“I am going back to my chambers now,” Haru says, passing his gentleman and flying up the stairwell.

Rei soon falls in step with him, asking Haru what is going on and lecturing about how he never should have left his room without notice – that the lockdown is still something to take seriously. Haru hears his gentleman but does not listen. Can only hear Makoto’s sigh; his own primal reaction.

When they return to Haru’s chambers, Haru flops on his bed, staring at the floor. His heart is racing, and his body is in frenzy. Tingling where Makoto’s finger had been, and mildly throbbing in a place Haru has not felt the need to give attention to in ages.

“Are you listening to me?” Rei asks, breaking Haru out of his thoughts.

Haru looks up, shaking his head.

Rei sighs, heavily. “Please tell me what is wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Haru answers.

“Do not lie,” Rei says. “When I found your chamber empty, I knew where you had gone. From what I walked in on it seemed as though something definitely transpired.”

Rei sits next to Haru, taking off his brim cap.

“You can talk to me, Haru,” Rei says. “What did I walk into? Did. Did Sir Makoto do something to you? Something…wrong?”

Haru’s body pangs at the question, and he stands up, rolling the horrible notion off his shoulders.

“Do not speak anymore,” Haru says.

“My Prince,” Rei says.

“I’m serious - enough,” Haru warns. “Makoto did not _do_ anything to me.”

“I am merely trying to understand,” Rei says, calmly. “You seemed and still do seem troubled. If he in any way-”

“- no, leave,” Haru says. “Leave my sights.”

Rei rises from the bed, holding out his hands. “I do not mean to offend-”

“- Gentleman Ryugazaki, I demand you leave my chambers!” Haru orders.

Rei seems staggered, but he places his cap back on his head, bowing. “By your order, My Prince.”

Rei leaves the room and Haru sits back on the bed, trembling. He understands that his gentleman is simply concerned, and he can only imagine what it must have looked like to see him and Makoto against the wall together. However, the very suggestion that Makoto did something wrong sickens Haru. He knows what wrong feels like, and what he felt from Makoto was anything but that.

Haru kicks off his boots, wondering why he let things go so far in the first place. He has rules for his behavior – made promises to himself after careless past mistakes left him fearful and jagged in some places. Haru does not mind flirting or faking closeness to get the things he wants, but he only feels comfortable and confident doing so when he knows it is on his terms. When the idea of something more is only ever an illusion.

Haru lies back, sighing. Everything has felt the same to him for so many years now, but it was different in the armory. _Makoto_ felt different, and Haru did not feel broken in the moment. He knew that everything that was happening between them was real.

Haru closes his eyes, gripping the bed. He wanted Makoto to touch him even though he has been living contently numb for years, and what scared him in the moment – scares his so much now – is the mere fact that he was able to feel something at all with the knight.

~~~

Haru stays in his room for the rest of the day, busing himself with projects but finding no real direction. Rei comes back to the chamber; talks to him about meetings he will have to attend and social gatherings arranged for him once the lockdown ends, but Haru cannot pay attention. He doesn’t really notice anything but the setting sun, and what will eventually happen once night falls over the kingdom.

When the inevitable time comes, Haru is sitting upright in bed still in the same clothes. He can hear Makoto’s familiar boot shuffle come toward his entrance, and Haru shifts to the edge of the bed, having no idea what to expect.

“Prince Haruka?” Makoto asks from behind the drapery. His voice is thin, uncertain.

Haru takes a deep, silent breath, keeping his hands in his lap. “You may enter.”

Makoto walks through the drapery, dressed in his armor again, and he only looks at Haru for a second. “I need to perform a sweep of the chamber,” Makoto says.

“All right,” Haru says, quietly.

Makoto immediately goes right into his routine, checking each space and corner of Haru’s room. Locking up every possible opening in complete silence. Haru watches Makoto as he hurries about the chamber, and even though he has had all evening to come up with something to say, his head is empty.

Makoto comes back from Haru’s wardrobe room and finally makes real eye contact. His lip is swollen, and a bruise is setting in around his mouth, but the pain in his expression is not due to his injury. Haru knows that it is coming from Makoto’s heart, and he can hardly stand it.

“Your chamber is secure,” Makoto says.

Haru says nothing, only blinks.

Makoto looks down at his boots, frowning. “We, um, have received word that tonight will be the last of the lockdown. Tomorrow morning everything will be as it was.”

Haru remains silent.

Makoto bites his lip, and Haru worries that he might make it bleed again.

“I promise you,” Makoto says, his voice thick. “If the lockdown did not end tomorrow I would certainly request to be traded.”

Haru at last stands. “What are you talking about?”

Makoto gazes at Haru, his face contorted, and Haru has seen the expression before – witnessed it earlier just that day. It is a look of pure guilt and upset – Makoto’s total disappointment in himself.

“I’m sorry,” Makoto whispers, shaking his head. “I am so sorry for what happened.”

Haru sighs, his forehead creasing, and he cannot handle talking about this or Makoto’s deep remorse. Haru did not know what to anticipate from the knight, but this outcome is far worse than he ever imagined.

“You do not have to apologize,” Haru says.

“But I do,” Makoto says. “What I did was inappropriate and dishonorable. What I did makes me no better than my Brothers.”

“Makoto, please,” Haru urges.

Makoto’s green eyes are so scared and insecure, and Haru does not know how to fix it. He desperately wants to apologize and take blame for what is truly his fault, but that would mean telling the truth. Telling Makoto that the touch had to stop because it felt so good – made Haru completely alive in his body.

“Makoto,” Haru says again, slowly. “You didn’t do anything wrong…to me.”

“I am your guardian, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, his eyes shimmering for a moment. “I – I should’ve brought you back here straight away. I made every mistake possible.”

Haru looks down, letting out a shaky breath. He feels frustrated – torn apart – by Makoto thinking anything is his fault. Feels enraged with himself for not being able to say the things he needs to out loud. The words are simply too deeply buried – caged inside his heart.

“I was there as well, Makoto,” Haru manages to say, having nothing else and not even knowing what he means.

“That is not the point,” Makoto says, taking a step back. “I betrayed your trust, and I am so very sorry. But I promise that what I did will never happen again. I swear to it, Prince Haruka.”

Haru turns around, not being able to stand Makoto’s expression or words that cut into him like ice shards. Haru tightly shuts his eyes, trying to think of what to say, but he is too distracted by “ _never happen again”_.

“I will station myself outside for the night,” Makoto says, after too much silence has gone by.

Haru does not move – doesn’t open his eyes – until he can tell that Makoto is on the other side of the drapery.

Only then does Haru sit back on the bed, facing the entrance, knowing that when he wakes up in the morning and peeks over the threshold, Makoto will not be there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, the MH Roller Coaster of Feels strikes again! It HURTS so good......  
> And YES, if you can't tell I do enjoy bratty!Prince Haruka  
> Thank you for reading! <3


	9. Breaking Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think it may need to stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I finally got this up!!!! I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for all of the kind words and support. It means SO much to me. <3

Makoto makes another slow trip down the corridor, still having so much energy after being awake all night. It is just before dawn, when the castle is mostly quiet and peacefully stagnant. If it were any other morning he would surely find solace, but he only feels regret as he passes by the prince’s drapery for the thousandth time, and he hears the faint, urgent command once more: _“Stop.”_

Makoto leans against the wall, burying his face in his hands as he thinks _yet again_ about how he has ruined everything. How yesterday was an important test of will and he outrageously failed – failed Prince Haruka and himself.

He bites his bottom lip that is even more sore from the previous day, and Makoto cannot help but remember how good it felt to have Prince Haruka tend to it – care for him with his willowy fingers as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Makoto shakes his head, forcing the gust of pleasant feeling away. Feeling good is what got him into trouble in the first place. Made him forget who he was and his place within the kingdom.

“Sir Makoto?”

Makoto lowers his hands to find the prince’s gentleman staring curiously at him with parchment and scrolls busying his hands.

“Gentleman Ryugazaki,” Makoto says.

Ryugazaki gives him a once-over, seeming less than pleased to see him, and Makoto wants to berate himself all over again. Failing Prince Haruka also means that he has failed Gentleman Ryugazaki, which is just as horrendous.

“I come with an order,” Ryugazaki says. “The constable is holding an early congress, and all of the knights are to be in attendance.”

“I will report straight away,” Makoto says.

“Wait,” Ryugazaki adds, holding up a hand. “I would like to speak with you first in my office. It is vital we have a discussion.”

Makoto’s heart skips a painful beat. He has been dreading such words all night, but he has no choice but to face whatever happens next. Even if it means being reprimanded.

“Certainly,” Makoto says, trying not to look as nervous as he feels.

Makoto takes another glimpse back at Prince Haruka’s drapery before accompanying Ryugazaki upstairs to his chambers, following him into his cramped workspace where they had previously convened about the prince’s riding lessons.

Makoto sits in the same chair as he had the last time, and once more Ryugazaki stations behind the desk. It feels eerie to Makoto considering what they talked about the last time they were there together, and what they have no other alternative but to discuss now.

“So,” Ryugazaki says, his voice extremely sharp. “There is no doubt as to what this is in reference to, correct?”

“No,” Makoto says, lowly. “I, um. I am unsure of what the prince has told you about what happened, but I will give you whatever details you require.”

“Prince Haruka has not discussed the matter with me in any capacity,” Ryugazaki says.

Makoto is taken aback. “He hasn’t?”

Ryugazaki grows more concerned – his coldness briefly melting away. “I may be his gentleman, but Prince Haruka is a very private person. Especially, as of late, in concerns to you.”

“I never asked him not to say anything,” Makoto quickly assures.

“I assumed as much,” Ryugazaki says. “I am not entirely bothered by it. I have and will always honor the prince’s silence. Conversely, I cannot honor yours, Sir Makoto. Everything that happens to Prince Haruka is my business.”

Another layer of guilt builds itself upon Makoto’s shoulders. He wishes that Ryugazaki did not look so troubled. The gentleman’s love for Prince Haruka is completely transparent, and the last thing Makoto ever wanted to do was to lose Ryugazaki’s faith in him.

“I understand,” Makoto says, his shoulders wilting. “What you saw must have looked. Really bad.”

“What I saw alarmed and confused me,” Ryugazaki says, slightly raising his voice.

Makoto moves his focus away from Ryugazaki’s disappointed eyes. He is merely thankful that his father is not there to witness such a disgrace.

“You have every right to be irate,” Makoto says, wanting to wince at his own words. “I. I did make an advance on the prince. That is what you saw when you came into the armory.”

Ryugazaki’s ears turn pink, and he sighs, shaking his head. “I do not understand,” he says. “You and I had a clear discussion about such things before you took the position as the prince’s riding instructor – in this very place.”

“I know – I know,” Makoto says, having nothing else to give to the gentleman.

“Do you, Sir Makoto?” Ryugazaki asks, looking desperately sincere. “Because I am honestly uncertain.”

Makoto does not know how to answer the gentleman as he too is riddled with uncertainty. All he is sure of now is that he should have simply ignored the powerful, searing feeling that grew between him and the prince as they were against the wall in the armory. He should have dismissed the perfect, foolish moment when the prince gazed at him with all the beauty and hunger in the world, and Makoto actually believed that he was not alone in passion. That Prince Haruka wanted to be touched as badly as Makoto wanted to feel him.

“I made a terrible mistake,” Makoto says, more to himself than to the gentleman. “One that has brought me great shame and regret every second since. I apologized to the prince, and I will give you the same respect. I am so sorry for my actions. For losing your faith.”

Ryugazaki’s attitude softens a bit. Makoto can tell that the gentleman wants to believe him, but he would more than understand if he has lost the gentleman’s trust indefinitely.

“May I inquire as to what happened?” Ryugazaki asks, leaning over the desk a little. “I only. I have never seen the prince look that way before.”

Makoto swallows hard, thinking about Prince Haruka’s expression – the flash of fear in his eyes as he moved back from him as if they were strangers. That face is what kept Makoto awake all night as he guarded the prince’s chambers. It is what shatters and plagues him the most.

“I got too close,” Makoto says, quietly, “and I…scared him.”

“Prince Haruka does not scare easily, Sir Makoto,” Ryugazaki says, appearing even more troubled.

“I realize this,” Makoto says, clearing his throat of the thick lumps of pain. “That is what makes it all the more horrible.”

Makoto peers down at his boots, realizing what he has to do now – because he has left himself without other options.

“I have no reason to ask this,” Makoto says, “but I am hoping that you will allow me to see the prince today.”

Ryugazaki does not appear sympathetic as he raises his spectacles higher on his nose. “That cannot happen,” he says. “With the lock down concluded Prince Haruka will be very busy.”

“Please?” Makoto urges. “I really need to make things right with him. I spent all night thinking about it, and talking to you now has confirmed my resolve.”

“Your resolve?” Ryugazaki asks.

“Yes,” Makoto says, ignoring the screaming, opposing voice in his head. “I think…”

Makoto trails off. It does not matter what he thinks or what he wants. What matters is doing the right thing – what he cannot allow to happen ever again.

“I should not spend so much time with Prince Haruka anymore,” Makoto says, the words burning his throat. “And I personally should tell him such news.”

Ryugazaki actually appears surprised. “Sir Makoto-”

“-it is the only solution to a problem I created,” Makoto says. “I-I am very sorry to admit that it is sometimes too difficult to be professional around Prince Haruka, especially as of late.”

Makoto looks Ryugazaki in the eyes, and the gentleman tries to search him. Makoto wonders if Ryugazaki can see what is there within him – that there are two people in the room who love Prince Haruka and only want what is best for him.

“All right,” Ryugazaki finally says. “As I said, the prince will be very busy today, but this evening he plans to visit the herbal garden. I suppose you can see him then.”

Makoto feels a swift spout of relief, but the sensation instantly dissipates, and hollowness begins to spread in his chest. He is relieved of the gentleman’s verdict, but a part of him wished that Ryugazaki would say no – so he would not have to go through with his decision.

“Thank you very much,” Makoto says, dipping his head. “I appreciate your compassion, in spite of everything.”

“I appreciate your honesty with me,” Ryugazaki says, not seeming happy or at all satisfied. “Well, I will not take any more of your time, I suppose. You should report to your meeting.”

Makoto gets up from the desk, and Ryugazaki stands as well, appearing apprehensive.

“I am sorry about this, Sir Makoto,” Ryugazaki says.

“Not as much as I,” Makoto says, smiling sadly before leaving the room.

Makoto ventures down the staircase away from Ryugazaki’s chambers, and he finds himself journeying back to Prince Haruka’s corridor. He stops just before the drapery leading into the prince’s room, and Makoto leans his head against the wall. Prince Haruka is right on the side of the stone – could possibly be awake and standing only beyond the cloth – but Makoto feels as though they are an ocean apart.

Makoto thought it would be all right to embrace his true feelings, but he was severely wrong. Prince Haruka may never feel completely comfortable with him again because he let his heart overrule him, and that will never be worth it to Makoto. Nothing is worth the prince shifting away from him in fear.

Makoto’s chest begins to ache. He does not want to stay away from the prince – never wants to go even a day without seeing him if Makoto does not have to – but he needs to learn how to cope and carefully contain his feelings. He needs time to adjust and deal with his ravenous desire that was accidently set free in the armory.

Makoto places his hand to the cold stone. It seems cruel that he only just accepted Prince Haruka as his true motivation for battling without restraint, and now he will have to do everything he can to restrain himself _from_ the prince. However, Makoto will never have anyone to blame but himself. He overstepped his boundaries and did what he wanted instead of what he was supposed to do and was necessary.

“I’m sorry,” Makoto whispers to the wall, as if Prince Haruka can hear him. He closes his eyes and clutches the stone, forcing the feeling back into his legs so he can step away and at last leave the prince’s chambers.

Makoto rolls his shoulders back and journeys to the congress hall. It is nearly full, and Constable Fuki is already addressing the room as Makoto enters. He quickly and quietly takes a seat at the round table, telling himself to put everything personal aside and focus on his job.

He does his absolute best to be attentive as the constable debriefs the unit. There is conversation and updates on the rebels captured, foot-solider reports, as well as discussion of the aggressive resumption of their citywide patrol. Nevertheless, all Makoto can think about is what he has to say to Prince Haruka, and he ponders if he has made yet another mistake by asking to see him again so soon.

By the conclusion of the meeting, Makoto’s lack of sleep has caught up with him, and he has to will himself out of his seat when the knights are dismissed. He stands with the rest of his Brothers, and just as they begin to file out of the room Queen Nanase graces her presence at the door with her dark blue robes flowing behind her. Makoto and everyone else instantly bow.

“You all may rise and are excused,” Constable Fuki says. “All but Sir Makoto.”

Makoto’s stomach flips over while his Brothers leave the room. He does not lift his head until all the other knights have gone, and Makoto has no idea what to think as Queen Nanase and Constable Fuki stand before him. He panics inwardly, wondering if he has taken things too far and left Ryugazaki no choice but to tell the queen what happened and suggest that he be banished from the castle.

“My Queen,” Makoto says, keeping his voice as steady as possible.

“At ease, Sir Makoto,” the queen says. “You may rise.”

Makoto stands, carefully deciphering the queen’s vacant expression just as he does with her son. She does not seem angry, which has to be a good sign – somehow.

“What may I do for you, My Queen?” Makoto asks.

“I wish to speak with you, along with the constable,” the queen says, gesturing to the table.

Constable Fuki pulls out a chair for the queen, and Makoto tries not to clumsily sit down a few seats away from them. Ryugazaki wanting to converse did not end well, and Makoto can only hope that the next situation fairs better. He sits as straight as he can at the table, but he feels like a disgrace next to the queen’s flawless posture.

“I will be in travels soon,” the queen says, moving long black hair out of her face. “Before I depart, I want you to know that I ordered Constable Fuki to keep me abreast of your work over the course of the lock down.”

“The queen is very diligent about the investments of the castle,” Constable Fuki says. “Especially ones that have gained personal involvement.”

“Of course,” Makoto says. “I honor the report that Constable Fuki has given you, My Queen.”

“I was not discontented by his account, and I am pleased to have confirmation regarding my decision,” the queen says. “Sir Makoto, I want to personally give my gratitude for your safeguard of Prince Haruka.”

Makoto blushes, wanting to smile in appreciation, but guilt hangs heavier upon him. The queen has no idea that he performed his obligation well up until the very end – in a moment when safety and trust mattered the most.

“It is my duty to serve to the best of my ability, My Queen,” Makoto says, finding his voice, putting everything else aside. “I am honored by your gratitude.”

“I left the same report for the king,” Constable Fuki says, nodding.

“And I will be sure to pass my feelings along to him when he returns,” the queen says.

Makoto’s eyes grow wide, and he feels somewhat lightheaded. “T-thank you, My Queen. Constable Fuki. ”

“You have proven yourself well thus far, Sir Makoto,” the queen says. “I am sure there will be greater opportunities in the future for you.”

“The queen and I will keep in touch in concerns to your placement, Tachibana,” Constable Fuki says.

Makoto places a hand to his chest, dipping his head in great thanks – because no words could ever be good enough for such a moment.

“With that settled, I really must be going,” the queen says. The constable helps her out of her chair, and only then does Makoto rise from his.

“Have safe travels, My Queen,” Makoto says, bowing.

“Thank you,” the queen says, slightly dipping her head. “Have a good day, Sir Makoto.”

“And to you, as always, My Queen,” Makoto says, rising to a stand.

Queen Nanase leaves the room, and Constable Fuki pats Makoto on the shoulder.

“This is how you earn your keep, Tachibana,” Constable Fuki says. “Good investments are permanent.”

“I had no idea this would make such an impression,” Makoto says.

The constable shows the first real smile that Makoto has ever seen from him – a true expression of pride.

“I consider that a good thing, Tachibana,” Constable Fuki says. “You do your absolute best simply because you are supposed to. If you stay on a clear path and do your duty well, you will go far here. You can go far for your family.”

Constable Fuki pats Makoto on the shoulder again and excuses himself from the hall. Makoto is left standing alone – yet bombarded by too many emotions. He runs a hand through his hair, cracking a small grin for the first time in ages it seems.

Makoto returns to the barracks and refreshes himself, choosing to use his space of free time to rest and let his mind recover. As he lies in bed, feeling exhausted but too distracted to sleep, he tells himself that he may have tarnished his personal life at the castle, but it is not too late for his professional career.

All he has to do is keep on a clear path – only focus and care about his job – and he will go far. He will be able to go far for his family and for his kingdom.

Makoto reaches underneath his cot and finds his satchel, taking out writing supplies and a few pieces of parchment. He decides to write to his family, explaining that there may be bigger roles for him in the kingdom, which means that he will be able to provide more than he is now.

As Makoto writes his letter, he knows that he should be as happy as his words suggest. Doing everything he can for his name and his family should be enough to make him feel better, but as much as Makoto tries to motivate himself and find vigor in his words, it is not enough for him.

The hollowness does not disappear.

~~~

When evening sweeps over the kingdom and the sky turns a rich salmon, Makoto leaves the barracks and heads to the castle’s herbal garden. It is located on the east side of the grounds, closest to the ocean, and as Makoto enters the luxurious, colorful haven of plant life and flowers he can practically taste the sea salt. He has no idea why Prince Haruka would be in the garden, but the fragrance alone is probably reason enough.

Several workers are attending to and gathering from the various vegetation, but Makoto easily locates Prince Haruka at a small, white-painted pavilion on the outskirts of the garden that is surrounded by wild roses.

Makoto’s stomach twists tightly. He has spent all day – all night and day – thinking of the prince, but now Makoto is so unsure of himself. He feels anxious and unprepared as he makes his way over to the pavilion, but he does not let his trepidation stop him from doing what is necessary.

There are benches built within the pavilion, but the prince is kneeling on the wooden floor, sorting through herbs and placing them into small jars.

“Prince Haruka?” Makoto says, standing right outside the structure.

The prince does not flinch or seem surprised as he looks up at Makoto. He merely stands, wiping his hands on the faded blue apron that he wears over his vest and breeches. Regardless of the situation, Makoto has to take a second to quietly sigh and adore how beautiful Prince Haruka looks – the flowers surrounding them only enhancing his loveliness.

“Rei said that you wanted to see me?” Prince Haruka says, tilting his head.

“Um, yes,” Makoto says, willing himself to stay focused. “I apologize for interrupting…whatever it is that you are doing.”

“I am deciding on spices for my pies while I have the occasion,” Prince Haruka says, sitting on one of the benches.

Makoto really, _really_ should focus, but the smitten feeling is far too commanding. “You know how to cook, My Prince?” he asks.

“I’m not allowed to – it is a servant’s duty,” Prince Haruka says, dully, as though he finds such a notion utterly ridiculous. “However, for special circumstances I am permitted to pick ingredients and help with the preparation.”

“How incredible,” Makoto says. “What is the occasion?”

“Prince Kisumi,” the prince says, gesturing off-handedly. “He very much enjoys food, and every time he visits he likes to try something different that I have prepared.”

“That is quite nice of you, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says. “I am sure whatever you prepare will be exquisite.”

Prince Haruka does not appear pleased or even vaguely annoyed as he sometimes gets when Makoto compliments him.

“Why are you here?” Prince Haruka asks, holding his hands in his lap. “What is it that you have to tell me?”

The bit of happiness in Makoto drowns in realization, and he remembers everything again – why he is there. He glances around the garden.

“Is this a place of privacy?” Makoto asks.

Prince Haruka tenses. “Yes,” he says. “This is my mother’s place of meditation. We will not be disturbed.”

Makoto steps into the pavilion and sits next to the prince, making sure to leave a nice gap in between them. He will not let this be yet another opportunity to fail.

“I was hoping we could talk about yesterday,” Makoto says.

Prince Haruka keeps his focus down on his herbs, clutching the hem of his apron, and Makoto does not know what to do with himself as he waits for an answer.

Although he has berated himself repeatedly and knows that what happened yesterday was wrong, his fingers suddenly tingle as he looks over the prince, and Makoto feels so good knowing that Prince Haruka’s cheek is softer than it looks – is somehow even softer than the fresh rose petals surrounding them.

Prince Haruka lightly sighs, snapping Makoto out of his thoughts. “We have already discussed this matter,” he says.

“Not completely,” Makoto says. “Last night – well, I suppose I was not in a good state to say what I needed.”

“What is there more to say?” Prince Haruka asks, still keeping his focus averted. “I know you are sorry, but you do not have to be. I was not angry in any way.”

“What about something else?” Makoto asks.

The prince finally looks at him. “Something else?” he asks.

Makoto turns and faces the prince more, pausing before answering. “When I touched you…”

Makoto immediately has to stop, and Prince Haruka’s breath hitches as his cheeks tickle pink. Suddenly, the cool evening breeze is not cold enough, and Makoto is still sitting so close to the prince. Despite wanting to mend the situation, Makoto thinks of things he shouldn’t – like how he knows that if he leaned forward and kissed Prince Haruka, his mouth would feel the softest of all.

Makoto peers down, closing his eyes, and he can hear the sound again – Prince Haruka’s blood-rushing, animalistic blare that gave Makoto a second of true, dazzling pleasure as it rushed through his ears and over his entire body.

Makoto forces the memory out of his head – forces himself to dismiss whatever atmosphere he created around them just from saying those four words. He opens his eyes, and the prince is gazing at him, appearing winded.

Makoto wets his lips, taking a breath. “When that happened, I scared you, didn’t I?”

Prince Haruka looks away, fidgeting with the hem of the apron now. He seems nervous – so uncomfortable in his skin. “Makoto,” he says, quietly. “I realize that the way I… When you…”

The prince lets out a sharp breath – frowning and lightly stomping his foot.

“Why are you doing this?” Prince Haruka demands, a spike of hostility in his tone.

“Doing what, My Prince?” Makoto asks, jarred by the prince’s sudden change in attitude.

“Making all of this happen,” the prince says. “Can we not just-”

“-forget about it?” Makoto asks. “Because if that is what you mean to say then the answer is no.”

Prince Haruka looks taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You obviously do not understand why I cannot simply ignore my mistakes,” Makoto says, finding the courage that he so desperately needs. “As a knight, as a Tachibana, I must always try to be honorable.”

The prince searches Makoto’s eyes, and his anger disappears. “What are you saying?”

“Before we started spending so much time together, you never had a reason to doubt me,” Makoto says, the words hurting as they form. “Now, I-I gave you one. For that reason I think – I know that I should cease being your riding instructor and should return solely to my knightly duties.”

Prince Haruka’s blue eyes spread wide. “What?”

“It may seem rash, but I promise my decision is not unfounded,” Makoto says, holding up his hands. “You are a remarkable study and have come so far, Prince Haruka. It is time that you perfect the craft with an actual instructor.”

Prince Haruka scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Do not speak to me as if I am some fool,” he says. He stands up. “Is this the plan you and my gentleman created this morning?”

“My Prince?” Makoto asks.

“I wake up and Rei tells me that he has spoken with you – that you want to see me,” Prince Haruka says. “Now _this_ is happening, and I want to know if it was your idea or his.”

“It was mine,” Makoto assures, standing as well. “This is my idea.”

The prince shakes his head, puffing out a breath. “You spoke to him about this before me?”

“I had no choice,” Makoto says. “And it only started because he wanted to know what happened. You didn’t tell him.”

“It is none of his business!” Prince Haruka says, raising his voice. “All of this is between you and me, yet apparently I don’t get any say in the decision making.”

“Because there is only one decision to be made, Prince Haruka!” Makoto urges, speaking louder as well.

Makoto hates that they are doing this – fighting with each other. It makes him feel horribly panicked and out of place, yet somehow it also makes him so much more aware of his feelings for the prince.

“Please, believe me, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says, in a softer voice. “I honestly do not want any of this to happen.”

“Then why is it?” the prince asks, truly looking confused.

Makoto is unsure of what to say. Keeping the truth from the prince is something he never wants to consider, but confessing that he is only doing this because he loves the prince and apparently cannot handle himself at times will never be an option.

“I need to do the right thing,” Makoto says, trimming the truth down to the basic important fact. “I have to do better for you and for me. This is the only way I know how to start.”

Prince Haruka slowly blinks, vaguely shrugging. “I do not see how this is supposed to be better for me,” he says. “You say that you do not want this, but what makes you think that I do?”

“Prince Haruka, I am just a commoner knight,” Makoto says. “In order for me to survive here and honor you the proper way, I must never forget my place.”

Prince Haruka vaguely frowns. “You are not just a commoner knight, Makoto.”

Not being able to fight his affection, Makoto grins a tiny bit. He will never know what he did to earn any of Prince Haruka’s respect, and even as he is telling the prince that he should distance himself, all Makoto wants to do is hold him.

“You may be kind enough to overlook such details,” Makoto says, “but it does not change anything.”

Makoto tries to think of what he can say that will get the prince to understand his position – that things are not as simple as they both apparently wish they were.

“I spoke with the queen today,” Makoto says.

Prince Haruka tenses once more, giving Makoto a once-over. “In what regards?”

“She appreciated the job I did as your guardian,” Makoto says. “She…seemed proud of me, and she and the constable believe that I may have a real future here.”

The prince’s hostility fades, and for a moment he even appears happy.

“That is fantastic,” Prince Haruka says. “You deserve it.”

Makoto wants to embrace the good feeling, but any pleasantness would be in vain.

“Thank you, My Prince,” Makoto says, “but what I’m trying to say is that I only have purpose here if I am doing my job. You may not need me to be a knight all the time, but it is all I am ever going to amount to in this kingdom.”

Prince Haruka’s slight expression of joy dims and vanishes.

Makoto shakes his head, and he has to continue. “But I keep not doing my job, Prince Haruka, and I keep breaking the rules. I think it may need to stop.”

Makoto feels like cringing. The faint, urgent word is back – however, the command comes from his voice this time.

Prince Haruka’s shoulders slump a little. “You mean we have to stop,” he says, faintly.

“I don’t want to,” Makoto says, nearly whispering. “But I have to do what is necessary. For the both of us.”

Makoto ends his resolution, feeling sick, and words such as _we_ and _us_ cloud his head with even more confusion. Prince Haruka gapes at him, looking staggered with his lips slightly parted. His face is pale, and Makoto is unsure if the prince is even breathing as he stands like petrified wood for what seems like hours.

“Prince Haruka…?”

“Fine,” the prince says – in a quiet, sharp voice.

“M-my Prince?” Makoto questions.

Prince Haruka puffs out his chest, grimacing and shaking his head. “If you do not want to see me anymore then fine – _go_.”

Makoto’s heart plummets. “Oh, Prince Haruka-”

“-no, honestly,” the prince says, taking a step back. “Stay away from me then.”

Makoto slightly wheezes, blinking away frustrated tears that want to form. “You aren’t listening, Prince Haruka.”

“And you have not heard one thing I have said since last night,” the prince says. He takes another step back, lazily gesturing a hand. “Please, just go.”

Makoto bites his lip, looking away. He has no other words or efforts as he turns and leaves the prince at the pavilion, and he does not bother showing politeness to the workers as he quickly makes his way back to the barracks – not looking back once.

Makoto sniffles as he walks, telling himself yet again that knights do not cry. He looks up in the evening sky, and it is all he can do to stay afloat – safe from drowning in his feelings.

When Makoto returns to his cot, he feels so exhausted once again, and he knows that there will be a new command that will haunt his mind all night:

_“Just go.”_

~~~~

Makoto stifles a yawn, shaking off the fatigue of another early morning patrol. He pulls out blades of grass as he sits by the fence in the stables, tearing the blades into pieces and allowing the mess to fall between his fingers.

Orca knickers, and it breaks through the storm that was soon to wreck Makoto’s mind. He rises to a stand and brushes himself off, walking over to his steed. Makoto pets his loyal, dark beauty of a horse, and he grins just a little. Feels just a little less alone.

“I know,” Makoto gently says, “you’re with me no matter what.” He kisses Orca’s neck, fitting on his saddle and making sure that the reigns are tight yet comfortable for his steed.

Makoto takes up his helmet and puts it on, placing his boot into the foot hook of the saddle.

“Tachibana.”

Makoto turns around, seeing Mikoshiba and Higa walking closer.

“Morning,” Makoto says. “Patrol as well?”

“The early shifts are the most dire,” Higa says. “Nothing ever happens.”

“Is that not a good thing?” Makoto asks, petting Orca.

“Not if we want to stay current,” Higa says.

“We can only speak for ourselves,” Mikoshiba says. “Tachibana’s position may change any day now.”

“Pardon?” Makoto asks.

Mikoshiba rolls his eyes. “The constable had no qualms telling us that the queen is pleased with your guardianship of Prince Haruka.”

Makoto has to look away. Just hearing the prince’s name causes his heart to grow heavier. He has not seen Prince Haruka for a few days – since their conversation in the gardens – and whilst that may be for the best, Makoto misses him so. Misses the prince in a way that makes his body ache constantly throughout the day.

“The queen did thank me in person,” Makoto says, doing his best to smile.

“Well, I am sure you will get some sort of promotion,” Higa says. “Bigger bounties for the knight who never indulges.”

“My family needs money. I do not,” Makoto says. He climbs onto Orca, lowering the visor on his helmet. “Have a safe journey, Brothers.”

“And to you,” Mikoshiba says, patting Orca’s neck before Makoto pulls on the reigns and takes off, galloping toward the city.

It is a windless, warm morning. Usually Makoto would not mind the heat as it helps keep his muscles relaxed, but he is in full battle gear for this particular patrol – chainmail and steel included. The extra weight lays on him like an invisible person, and he roasts underneath all his layers of defense.

Fortunately, the streets are generally clear except for morning workers. Makoto trots mildly on Orca and courteously greets people as he passes them by – never wanting the citizens to think he is someone they cannot approach or have to fear.

As Makoto tours the streets, he ponders the possibility of a promotion – more money – and it actually makes him smile. He has not seen his family in so long, and he would love to present them with something real when he returns to them. Even more than that, Makoto would love to be able to talk to his mother. Have her tell him that she is proud and everything is going to be all right, in spite of how hollow he feels.

Makoto pulls on the reigns and starts riding faster. He has to keep his mind alert and focused – at least while he is on active duty. He cannot spend every second wishing for things, pinning over things that will never happen.

He spends the next few hours patrolling his assigned portion of the city, the sun waking and heating up the layers on his body. Despite the lack of comfort, Makoto decides to keep riding even after he has finished his assignment.

He heads north, galloping further away from the density of the city and out into the open countryside. Makoto rarely gets to travel north, and the landscape is just so beautiful and peaceful. He needs peace – needs a moment of complete freedom.

Makoto finds himself riding into a small village, one looking much like his own back south, yet in slightly less poverty. He slowly trots through the cottage town, raising his visor to address citizens as he makes his presence known. There is a trader’s market carrying on within the town, and as Makoto navigates through the busy street of vendors and patrons, he double takes.

Up ahead he notices a superior brown stallion loosely tied at a post near a bread vendor. Makoto slows to almost a halt on Orca. He looks around, reassuring himself that he just misses the prince and that is why he thinks the brown horse is somehow Raven – which is simply impossible. Not only because there is no way that the prince could be at the market, but also because the saddle on the steed is too plain and lacks any sort of royal seal.

Makoto shakes his head and sighs, moving on and riding away from the congested part of the town. Near a cobbling shop he sees two large men in tatty brown robes harassing a boy with grey hair, pulling on his traveling bag and pushing at him.

Makoto immediately gallops over, jumping off his horse. “Cease now!” he shouts.

The two men stop and trip several steps back, seeing Makoto reaching for the hilt of his sword. The thieves also have weapons, but Makoto’s chainmail and steel gleams in the sunlight, and he can only imagine how intimidating it looks.

The two men drop the bag and push at the boy, scurrying away. Makoto picks up the bag.

“Here you are,” Makoto says to the boy, who close up actually does not appear to be that much younger than himself – albeit a lot shorter.

“Thank you, kind knight,” the boy says, dipping his head. “I very much appreciate your rescue.”

“No need to thank me,” Makoto says. “What is your name?”

The boy dips his head. “Nitori Aiichiro.”

“Well, Nitori, you should be more careful with your valuables,” Makoto says. “Especially on market day.”

“I do not usually travel alone, but my family needed supplies,” Nitori says. “The bandits in this area have been relentless as of late.”

“I will see to it that it stops,” Makoto says. “Hurry home to your family.”

Nitori nods, dipping his head in thanks once again. “I will – right away, Sir.”

Nitori rushes off and Makoto gets back on Orca, deciding to finally return to the castle in order to alert Constable Fuki about the increased bandit activity in the area.

He cuts through the large, dense woods of the northern region as a shortcut back to the city. There are countless trees and overgrown piles of dead wood covered in moss; the beaten trail leading from one end of the woods to the other barely visible underneath the leaves and grass.

Makoto increase his state of alertness, wanting to get through the area as quickly as possible. One of the first things he learned during his training was the unpredictably of the woods – how trees, shadows, and the element of surprise is never truly in anyone’s favor.

It is well into the day by the time Makoto reaches the city, and when he returns to the castle he stops at the barracks, hitching Orca at the small post outside the quarters before going inside.

Makoto strips his sweaty body of his chainmail and heavy armor, putting on his breeches, tunic, and vest with leather lining instead in addition to his robes and weapon belt. He wants to inform the constable as soon as he is free from his meetings, and until then Makoto needs to tend to Orca and refresh himself as much as possible, so he can be ready and fit in case Constable Fuki wants to send him back out with a small unit to clear the northern area.

Makoto sits on the bed, slipping back into his boots, and there is a knock on the open door frame. He turns around, standing as he sees Ryugazaki peeking inside.

“Gentleman Ryugazaki?” Makoto says.

“Sir Makoto,” Ryugazaki breathes, putting a hand to his chest. “I am much relieved to find you.”

If it were any other time Makoto might blush and feel happy hearing such a thing, but all he feels is puzzlement.

“Why?” Makoto asks, lowly. “What are you doing out here?”

Ryugazaki looks around, although there is clearly no one else in sight. “Could you step outside, please?” he asks, awkwardly, waving Makoto over.

Makoto frowns in confusion but follows the request. As soon as he gets outside Ryugazaki pulls on Makoto’s arm, bringing them closer to Orca. Makoto does not understand the unnecessary need for privacy or the gentleman’s curious nervousness.

“What is matter?” Makoto asks. “Are you all right?”

Ryugazaki takes off his spectacles to pinch the bridge of his nose. “No, I am honesty not all right. The king and queen are both in travels; there are a million things to be done before the kingdom’s upcoming events, and now there is a problem.”

“Slow down,” Makoto says, holding up his hands. “Just talk to me. I will assist with whatever you need.”

Ryugazaki puts his spectacles back on, taking a breath. “I have to tell someone, and for whatever reason I think it should be you first – before anyone else gets involved.”

Makoto’s eyes grow wide, as he was not anticipating such a response. “What is it?”

The gentleman reaches inside his vest pocket, pulling out a small piece of parchment. He hands it to Makoto: _will return before nightfall_ is written neatly – perfectly.

“Prince Haruka wrote this,” Makoto says, more as a fact than a question.

The gentleman begins to pace in front of him. “The prince woke up very early this morning and has been at the reservoir ever since,” he says.

Ryugazaki looks so unlike himself as he fidgets and flusters, and Makoto is not sure if he should feel more panicked or sorry for the gentleman.

“He informed me that he was not going to swim, so the prince was free to be alone for as long as he wanted,” Ryugazaki continues in saying. “When I went to check on him moments ago he was not present, and I found the note underneath a rock.”

“S-so, what does this mean?” Makoto asks, his knees going weak. Do you think Prince Haruka has left the castle?”

Ryugazaki runs a hand through his hair, actually messing it up and pulling at the strands. “I do not know. This is not the first time the prince has vanished unannounced. He has been doing so since we were children.”

Makoto’s jaw drops. “W-what do you mean? How – _what_?”

“It usually happens sometime after a lock down, or if the king and queen severally punish or restrict the prince,” Ryugazaki explains. “He will simply disappear somewhere on castle grounds or right beyond the property to one of his private spots.”

“And you have never told anyone?” Makoto asks.

“The first hundred times, yes,” Ryugazaki says, nodding. “However, when he became of age we made a…well, a terrible deal. If I allow him a few hours alone, then he will inform me when he plans to leave and he will always come back.”

Makoto shakes his head. “Always come back?” he asks, gently.

Ryugazaki paces again. “Prince Haruka is strongest person I know,” he says. “But I understand that he at times feels as though getting away is his only option for dealing with things.”

Makoto looks away for a moment. “I understand the notion.”

Ryugazaki sighs. “He is an adult. The only thing keeping him here now is his responsibility,” he says. “Sometimes I cannot help but fear that may not be enough, particularly this time.”

“What do you mean?” Makoto asks.

Ryugazaki peers at Makoto hesitantly. “Prince Haruka has not been himself lately,” he says. “For days now.”

A pang hits Makoto’s chest, and he feels all the air leave him.

“Do you think this is my fault?” Makoto asks.

“Absolutely not,” Ryugazaki says, raising his voice a little. “Do not dare say that.”

Makoto wants to believe the gentleman, but he is not really able to.

“All I mean is that the prince’s current state is the reason why I am troubled by this newest upheaval,” Ryugazaki assures. “I think he might have left the castle all together this time – perhaps to the beach now that he can get there himself. I planned to check the stables right after coming here.”

“Raven isn’t there,” Makoto quickly says, the words falling from him like glass shards. “And you’re right. Prince Haruka did leave the castle, but he is not at the beach.”

Ryugazaki pales. “Why do you say such things?”

Makoto exhales deeply, feeling ashamed. “Because I saw Raven earlier today – up north.”

Ryugazaki gasps. “Oh, my word. Did you-”

“- of course I did not see the prince,” Makoto says, aggravated. “I only saw the horse, but I was sure that it could not have been his.”

“We used to go up there when we were younger,” Ryugazaki says. “The Nanase’s love the northern landscape, but Prince Haruka has never been there alone or in quite some time.”

Makoto unhitches Orca from the post, having heard enough.

“You may have an agreement with the prince, but I do not,” Makoto says. “I am going after him.”

Ryugazaki does not appear to be upset – in fact, he relaxes just a little. “I want you to bring him back right now,” he says.

Makoto doesn’t waste another second before getting on Orca. “I should be able to locate him exactly. It’s the only reason why I am going alone,” he says. “However, if we do not return to the stables by nightfall then you must alert the constable.”

“Of course,” Ryugazaki says. “What else should I do?”

Makoto can see the fear and insecurity in the gentleman’s eyes – the helplessness. He trusted and believed in Makoto enough to tell him first, despite everything that has happened. Makoto will not disappoint him again. He will make Ryugazaki whole and prove that his judgment was not in vain.

“Unfortunately, there is nothing more you can do,” Makoto says. “It is my turn to take this over, and I swear to you that I will do my job.”

“I know you will,” Ryugazaki says. He reaches out and touches Makoto’s leg. “Please,” he adds, gripping Makoto a little, “bring him back. Keep him safe.”

Makoto puts a hand to his chest and puts the other on top of Ryugazaki’s. “I have no greater duty,” he says. “I swear I will return with him.”

Makoto pulls on Orca’s reigns and heads fast out of the stables. He rides with an urgency that he has never felt before, and nothing is more important that getting to the prince – than safely returning him home.

He makes it to the city in record time and travels north, thinking only of the prince and hoping that he is still at the market. It is late in the day now, and with any luck Makoto will be able to bring them back before the night turns black as pitch.

The low sun that is left, however, blazes and shines on Makoto’s skin, making him sweat as he gallops. Only then does he realize that he should have put his full armor back on, but the forgotten detail is the least of his problems. Although he knows where the prince is, Makoto has no clue of his state. Bandits will easily spot the prince’s wealth if he is dressed in any sort of proper attire.

The thought shoots panic through Makoto, and as soon as he finds himself entering the vast greenness of the north, he takes a path to the woods, using the shortcut again to get to the village faster, where the prince simply _has_ to be.

Regardless of what Ryugazaki thinks, Makoto knows that the situation is somewhat his fault. It could be mere coincidence, but he does not believe in such a thing when it comes to him and Prince Haruka. For the prince to leave the castle and venture alone, without any regard to the repercussion it would at least bring Ryugazaki, means that he must be hurting. That Makoto is not alone in the feeling – which he has been trying to convince himself of for days.

Makoto finally passes into the woods – the trees already appearing a bit more ominous in the low sunlight. He slows Orca down significantly, splitting all the focus he has between his eyes and ears. The wooded region seems barren, but he will never trust such a place, and he would rather get through safely then speed across and alert potential threats.

As Makoto approaches what he believes to be the halfway point through the woods, he sees a brown horse up ahead to the left of the trail. He gets hit with a burst of nausea, and he has no idea what the steed is doing there – in the woods of all places and not in the populated area of the cottage town.

Makoto clicks his teeth and speeds Orca up a little, recognizing the horse as Raven more and more as he nears it. He pulls on the reigns and stops Orca right next to Raven, who is loosely tied around a tree. Makoto hops off his steed and ties Orca securely to a tree next to it.

He examines the area, peering into the uncharted territory of the woods to the left of him. He does not see the prince, but he does spot a piece of white cloth on the ground not too far away. Makoto rushes into the brush, bending down next to the cloth. The vicinity has been cleared of leaves and large branches for sitting purposes, and a half-eaten piece of bread sits atop the cloth.

Makoto touches the cleared sitting spot, feeling just a hint of warmth in the grass. He stands, peering around once more. The prince has only recently gotten up, so he could not have gone too far. Makoto decides that he will first secure Raven to the tree then begin his search of the prince through this section of the woods.

Right as Makoto beings to turn, someone emerges just to the left of him. The person is dressed in plain, shabby black robes and a cloak with the hood pulled over. Nonetheless, Makoto knows the body and the straight, elegant way of walking by heart.

“Prince Haruka?” Makoto whispers, desperately and quietly.

Prince Haruka raises his head, stopping dead in his steps. His eyes widen, and Makoto can actually hear him gasp. Prince Haruka pulls back the hood of his cloak, revealing himself and seeming unharmed, and the knight does not know what to do next.

The entire journey Makoto has only felt fear and anxiousness. He has wanted nothing more than to find the prince safe and unscathed just as he is now. In spite of this, as Makoto looks over Prince Haruka, he feels something that he has never experienced before with him, and it boils over everything else.

Makoto takes a step forward, having nothing but anger for the prince.

“What the hell are you doing here, Prince Haruka?” Makoto demands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes a whiff* Is that a CLIFF HANGER I smell?  
> *whistles and walks away* - but not before clutching chest and wanting to give Makoto a nice big hug and hot bowl of soup


	10. Collateral Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This was not supposed to be about you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and hey, lovely readers! Thank you so much for the kind words and for always sticking around! I'm so happy that I FINALLY get to post this chapter! I hope you all like it, and I'll go ahead and apologize for the length of this chapter lol. I never really pay attention to the word count until the very end, and even I was amazed when I read the number lol. 
> 
> Warning: Graphic Themes Ahead

Haru is at a loss. His carefully made plans were perfect, yet the very last person that he would ever want to discover him somehow stands before him. It does not make sense to the prince. There is no possible way that Makoto is there at his campsite – that the knight has magically found him out of anywhere in the entire world.

Makoto grits his teeth, looking angrier than Haru has ever seen him. “Answer me, Prince Haruka,” he urges. “I demand you speak to me.”

Haru’s astonishment is suddenly overwhelmed by a fury of his own – the fury that has been stirring inside him for days, and he glares at the knight. Makoto has no right to demand anything – to walk away from Haru one day then barge into his place of refuge the next.

“It is none of your business what I am doing here,” Haru declares, standing tall. “And I wonder why on Earth you stand before me.”

Makoto takes a step back. “You are questioning _me_ , My Prince?”

“Of course I am,” Haru snaps. He peers around the woods, wondering if a brigade of soldiers will be next to arrive. “How did you know I was here?” he adds. “Are you alone?”

“That is not the issue at hand, My Prince,” Makoto says, gaping at Haru. “The most important thing right now is safely returning you to the castle.”

Haru deadpans. The wording alone tells him all that he needs to know, and it only makes him more infuriated.

“Rei told you that I left, didn’t he?” Haru asks.

Makoto pauses before answering, seeming a bit apprehensive. “As a matter of fact he did,” he says. “Your gentleman came to me wanting my help finding you.”

Haru rolls his eyes. “Ah, so you two had another discussion concerning the prince that the prince himself is not allowed to be a part of?”

“This is no time for your spite,” Makoto says, seriously. “He was worried and definitely has every right to be. You should not be here in the woods. I thought you would still be in town.”

“Still in town?” Haru asks, putting a hand to his chest. “My word, have you been tracking me?”

Makoto stumbles over his vocabulary, his face reddening more every second. “I-I’d never, My Prince,” he says. “How can you ask such a thing?”

“Because it is curious how someone who has had absolutely no contact with me for days suddenly appears during my retreat,” Haru says. “Are you _intentionally_ trying to scare me now?”

Makoto seems offended – perhaps even hurt by Haru’s jab – but Haru has no idea where the knight would grow such a nerve. Especially when the whole matter is clearly his fault.

“For your information, My Prince, I saw Raven earlier this morning at the market,” Makoto says, in a gentler voice. “It was after my patrol. I wanted to come out here for the peace. That is all.”

Some of Haru’s rage breaks off from him. He could have picked anywhere to escape to, but he chose north for the very same reason as Makoto. Haru wants to curse fate for giving them yet another small thing that binds them together. Allows Makoto to find him anywhere – despite Makoto wanting space and Haru demanding that he go.

“So? You did not approach?” Haru asks, distracting himself so he does not lose his edge.

“I was not sure it was Raven at the time,” Makoto says, as guilt writes itself all over his face. “I had no reason to think you would be away from the castle. Why – why did you leave, My Prince?”

Haru clenches his jaw. Why he left does not matter. Why he had to get away from the castle and everything inside it is not something he can share with Makoto.

“That is also none of your business,” Haru says.

Makoto’s brows come together, and he sighs. “Well, regardless, I knew you’d be out here somewhere after your gentlemen told me about your little stunt.”

“This was not a stunt!” Haru says, raising his voice.

Makoto shuffles right up to Haru. “Keep your voice _down_ ,” he warns, narrowing his eyes.

Haru ignores the fluttering in his stomach at being so close to Makoto again, focusing instead on his anger. He balls his fists, glaring up into Makoto’s face that looks so furious. Seems so unnatural.

“Stop telling me what to do,” Haru says, slowly, and just as intensely as the knight. “I wanted to leave so I did. I should and can ride whenever I damn well please.”

“Not to woods. Especially not alone,” Makoto says, and he is so close that Haru can feel the knight’s breath on his neck.

Haru has to move a step back, having taken too many glances at Makoto’s mouth that simply will not leave him alone in fury.

“I only came this way as a shortcut – same as you,” Haru says. “That is the only reason why I am here.”

“That will never be reason enough for someone like you,” Makoto says. He takes a breath, looking around. “There could be bandits in these woods, My Prince. There are definitely some in the area. I know it – I’ve seen it.”

“I am dressed plainly,” Haru says in boredom, not frightened by Makoto’s threats. “I made sure to go over everything.”

“But anyone who sees you riding Raven will instantly know that you have a bit of money,” Makoto says. “How much did you bring with you?”

“Only enough for the market,” Haru says. “I spent it all.”

“Just as dire,” Makoto says, shaking his head. “You would have nothing to bargain with if you became held up. People who live this far out will not recognize you as a Nanase. They won’t give you a chance to prove your worth.”

Haru scoffs. He reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out a simple silver bracelet. One of many he has in his jewelries.

“I have told you once before,” Haru says, dangling the bracelet in Makoto’s face before returning it to his vest. “Do not speak to me as if I am some fool.”

Makoto exhales heavily, waving his hands. “Right – congratulations on being extremely clever, My Prince,” he says. “In any case, we are going back right now. Your adventure is over.”

Haru sighs harshly. He is not distressed so much that he has to leave, but that it is Makoto who has to take him back. Who has to be all around him only to walk away – again.

“This is _shit_ ,” Haru says, completely forgoing his manners. “You should not even care about what I do anymore, Makoto.”

Makoto looks taken aback, but Haru can tell it is not because of his swear. Makoto calms for the first time since his arrival, and he seems like himself – the knight Haru spoke to for the first time underneath a sky of stars.

“I am always going to care, Prince Haruka,” Makoto says. “I will never stop caring.”

Haru feels a shudder begin to rock its way down his spine, but he tenses his body and forces the reaction away. It is not fair that Makoto says such things. Sincerely slips tender words from his mouth that make Haru completely aware of how much he has missed the knight. Has missed him more than Haru longs for the water.

The rage within Haru grows, and he feels so smothered by the knight – by Makoto’s precious way of being. Even when Haru vigilantly plans and tries to escape; forces himself to think about something else as he lies awake in bed, or submerges himself under the bathwater perhaps a bit longer than he should – Makoto is still there. The knight is always able to reach out and take hold of him.

“You have no right to do this,” Haru says. “You are not allowed to interfere in my personal life.”

Makoto’s shoulders wilt. “This is not a personal matter,” he says, lazily shrugging. “I am only here to escort you home.”

Haru turns around, folding his arms over his chest. “I do not want to go with you.”

“That is no trouble of mine,” Makoto says, dully. “Throw a fit if necessary, but this time I will not be swayed. You can be a man about this or not – your choice.”

Haru faces Makoto again, feeling a painful blush on his face. Makoto is looking at him firmly, and Haru cannot fathom spending another moment with him. It _really_ is Makoto’s fault that they are in dire straits – that Haru for the first time has not seen him smile.

“Fine,” Haru says. “I will return with you.”

“Good,” Makoto says, not seeming happy either.

Makoto picks up Haru’s half-eaten bread and cloth from the ground, jamming it all into his vest pocket. He then kicks leaves and twigs over the area Haru had cleared so he could sit and eat his early supper. Makoto makes the spot look as though no one had ever been there – as if Haru had never escaped the castle at all.

“Did you leave any other traces?” Makoto asks, stomping on the pile as if to add insult.

Haru can only shake his head, feeling too upset – too beaten down – to say anything else. Makoto takes Haru by the forearm and leads him over to the horses, all but dragging him like his father sometimes does.

“I want you to stay right here,” Makoto says. He sighs as he looks at Raven. “And I wish that you would secure Raven’s binds properly. I have told you time and time again that-”

“-wait, _wait_ ,” Haru says, holding up a hand. “What are you going to be doing, apparently?”

“Finding proper branches for torches,” Makoto says. “At least a couple.”

“What for?” Haru questions, peeking up at the sky. “We still have daylight.”

“Not for long,” Makoto says, drawing out his words in clear irritation. “You overestimated how much ground you would cover taking this route. There is still quite a distance to the city, and the sun is near death as it is. It will be dark very soon.”

Haru’s eyes briefly widen. Granted, he has not been to the northern region in ages, but he was sure that he had given himself enough time.

“W-well, even so, it is a clear night,” Haru says, sounding idiotic.

Makoto lightly snorts, shaking his head. “Either way, I would rather not escort you back using only starlight. I usually keep a few torches in my satchel, but I did not allow myself any time to prepare for this.”

Makoto stops speaking and simply looks at Haru. Haru momentarily leaves his spite again and fully takes in the fear in Makoto’s eyes. The worry that Haru knows the knight must have felt.

“I just had to get to you,” Makoto says. “Make sure you were all right.”

“I am,” Haru says right away. “I merely rode around for awhile. I bought a few things, and no one bothered me. I. I was normal.”

Makoto’s eyes soften a little. “I am glad you got to have that, Prince Haruka,” he says, gently. “I really do not mean to take it away from you, but-

“- it is your duty. Something you have to do,” Haru says, bleakly, as he rolls his eyes.

Haru has heard Makoto’s speech already – cannot get it out of his head no matter how hard he tries.

“And regardless of what I want, I don’t get any say in the matter,” Haru continues in saying, as if he is reading from a book. “Does that sum up everything?” he adds.

Makoto closes his eyes, running a hand through his hair, and their moment of honest connection is gone.

“Are we going to argue again so soon?” Makoto asks, both looking and sounding defeated. “Because we really do not have the time.”

Haru taps his foot, clicking his teeth. “Continue with the plan.”

“Thank you,” Makoto says, lacking sincerity. “As I said, I will scourge the area for a couple of good torches then come right back. I really want to take you with me, but someone has to stay with the horses. I – I don’t think there is any other way.”

“I can handle it,” Haru says. “I have been handling myself all day.”

Makoto does not appear convinced. He gazes into the vastness of the woods and seems so overwhelmed – lost.

“I didn’t prepare for this,” Makoto says again, although it seems more to him himself. “I…I’m _never_ prepared.”

Makoto rubs his eyes. His guilt crashes into Haru in a mighty wave, and it angers the prince as well as aches. Haru is beyond tired of Makoto’s remorse. Of seeing pain on the knight’s gentle face and knowing deep down who really put it there.

“You weren’t meant to be here, Makoto,” Haru says, softly. “This was not supposed to be about you.”

The words are clear, but they do not feel real to Haru. They aren’t real to him.

Makoto frowns a little. “And yet I am here,” he says, just as softly. “So I am going to take care of you as best as I can.”

Makoto unclips a leather pouch from his belt and gives it to Haru. It is not much bigger than Haru’s hand, and when he opens it his eyes widen. Haru pulls out a small dagger that has a wide, blunt blade that is incredibly sharp.

Haru looks up. “You want me to have this?”

“I cannot leave you here unarmed. Even if I am away for a minute,” Makoto says, looking grim. “Do you have any experience?”

“No,” Haru says, sliding the blade back into the pouch.

“It’s simple,” Makoto says. “Have a firm grip and commit to what you are aiming for. It is a blade designed for puncturing as opposed to slicing.”

“Makoto, I don’t think this-”

“- it does not matter what you think!” Makoto urges. “You are going to take that and keep it with you at all times. Do you understand me?”

Haru is a taken aback. He slides the pouch down inside his boot. “Yes, I understand.”

Makoto nods, sighing and seeming even more anxious. “All right, stay put by the horses. Do not move from this spot or make too much noise. In fact, don’t do anything but-”

“-stop addressing me like this, Makoto,” Haru says, shaking his head in aggravation – at Makoto once again taking all control away from him. “If you are going to ruin everything then you can at least speak to me with some respect.”

Makoto’s jaw drops. He blinks rapidly, huffing out a breath. “I honestly do not think I wish to speak any further to you right now.”

“Splendid – same!” Haru snaps. “There is nothing more I need or want to say to you either. Perhaps for the duration of our time out here or longer.”

“Fine – just do what I told you,” Makoto practically barks. “I shan’t be long. Stay right here.”

Makoto takes one more at the horses then heads right, quickly disappearing into the thicket of the woods.

Haru scoffs and places his hands on his hips. Now, on top of everything else, Makoto feels as though he has earned the right to berate him like a child whenever he wants. Make Haru feel ever less relevant than he already does.

“Annoying,” Haru mutters. He pulls the cloak hood back over his head and hides behind it as he has all day. However, the illusion of a simple life is gone, and Makoto and Rei’s latest decision on his behalf has proven that the little control the prince thought he still had over his life was mere delusion.

Haru looks at the horses, figuring that he might as well follow orders, but the spiteful stubbornness in him is far too great. Haru goes left, venturing further into the trees. He will enjoy the last bit of freedom he has before returning to the castle and will also possibly find branches of his own to use for torches. He knows he came across a good one or two as he trekked the area right before Makoto arrived, searching for what he thought sounded like ducks.

As Haru drags about the woods, kicking at dead leaves and only vaguely paying attention to his surroundings, he thinks about Rei. How worried the gentleman must be to have snitched on him and to Makoto of all people.

 _Makoto_.

Haru grumbles a little as he keeps walking. He is so angry with the knight. Completely blames Makoto for all of his current feelings – because of Makoto’s stupid need to be the most superior, honorable gentleman at all times.

Haru would be able to deal with charming all the ladies of royalty at the upcoming ball if it weren’t for Makoto. He would be able to handle the long nights in his chambers that feel so strangely lonely, and Haru knows that the painful, erratic pit in his chest that didn’t leave him for a second after his escape would not exist in the first place if it weren’t for Makoto.

Above all else, Haru wanted to lose the hollowness. He wanted to fill the void with good feelings during his exploration. It has just been aching inside him for days. Sometimes filling with an intense rage and other times with a grave guilt. Worst of all, every so often the hole is overstuffed by an overwhelming sensation of loss. As if Haru has misplaced a vital piece of himself – one that he has no idea how to find and connect back to him.

Haru picks up a branch and harshly throws it after deeming it useless. He never should have agreed to see Makoto in the gardens. Never should have let the knight spout so much nonsense about doing the right thing and wanting space to help them both. Haru never should have…told Makoto to go.

There is a _crack_ – a loud snapping of a branch or a crackling from stepping on dead leaves. The sound echoes, and Haru stops in his tracks, whipping his head around.

“Makoto?” Haru calls out. He strains to hear a response, but there is nothing.

Haru peers around the woods, only then realizing that he has probably wondered too far, for the area he stands in is unfamiliar. A spike of tension shoots through Haru’s spine, but he shrugs it away. He will simply head back the way he came and return to camp. Defying Makoto’s orders is not worth actually falling adrift in the northern woods.

Haru starts walking back in the direction he came from, deciding to pay more attention to his surroundings just to be safe. Just to make sure he can get back as fast as possible.

~~~~

The longer Haru treks, the darker the sky becomes – nearly fading in brightness by the second. There is only a sliver of dark pink in sky now, causing the tall trees to cast looming silhouettes. All the landmarks that were so easy to see in the sunlight are suddenly camouflaged by shadows, and the entirety of the woods appears a hundred times bigger.

More spikes of tension rampage through Haru, as he cannot tell how deep into the woods he has become, or in what direction the course to the trail and the edge of the tree line begins.

Haru stop and looks around once again. He cannot see the horses anywhere and can hear nothing but the nocturnal creatures of the woods. All the trees and moss pits look the same. All the indentions in the grassy, leafy ground look the same. Haru has no idea where he is, and he does not know how to get back to camp.

Haru’s heart skips several beats, and there is a twisting in his stomach that makes him queasy. He can feel a flourish of panic drawing itself back to hurtle through him, but he does his absolute best to fight it off. Haru closes his eyes and takes a few slow, deep breaths, rolling back his shoulders.

He may be lost, but he can find his way. All he can and has to do is head north. It is the only way to make sure he does not stray any deeper into the woods, and it is the only way to find the trail.

Haru hears another loud crack, and he jumps, opening his eyes. He turns in the direction of the noise, but he sees nothing and no one. Only trees – only shadows.

“Makoto?” Haru says, glancing around.

He hears the sound again, and he backs away from its direction.

“M-Makoto?” Haru calls out again, louder.

There is no response, and Haru begins backing away some more. He ends up colliding with a tree, and it jars him enough to practically make him scream in fright.

“Hello!” Haru shouts, angry and scared. “Makoto! I-I command you come out this instant! Makoto!”

Haru whips his head in every direction, but he still does not see anyone. He tries to write the moment off as an animal simply skipping about the woods, but when Haru hears a third crack he gasps and begins running north.

Haru does his best not to trip over himself as he blindly runs through the woods, his arms flailing and having no real idea if he is going the right way. Haru really, _really_ needs to get back to camp, and for the first time in a long time all he wants to do is go home.

It is completely dark by the time the trees thin out, and Haru can at last see the opening of the woods and the separation of the two halves by the beaten trail. His heart lifts, and he actually smiles a little as he races to the clearing.

Haru steps out onto the trail. He does not see Makoto or anyone, but as he looks left he can make out Raven and Orca not too far down from him. He rests his hands on his knees and hunches over a little, allowing much needed air into his lungs before walking the rest of the way over to his camp.

As Haru stands upright and takes a step forward, he is yanked back and slammed into something firm and warm. A strong arm pulls around Haru’s waist, locking his arms at his sides. A second arm presses against Haru’s chest, and a hand clamps over his mouth.

“I knew you’d be back,” a man’s voice whispers in his ear. It is light, gruff, and completely unfamiliar.

Before Haru can even process an emotion to feel, the man holding him begins dragging him backward – deeper into the woods and further away from security. The trail becomes harder and harder to see, and soon there is nothing but trees again. There is nothing but Haru and a stranger who has apparently been waiting for him.

An emotion finally breaks through – _panic_ – and Haru starts kicking his legs to slow them down, screaming against the man’s hand that tastes like dirt.

It does nothing, for Haru’s feet barely touch the ground and his sounds are muffled to a squeak. They do not stop moving until they are well back into the woods – to where anyone riding by on the trail would not see anything unless they were really looking.

The man finally lets Haru’s feet touch the ground, and Haru automatically tries to escape his clutches.

“Ah – ah,” the man breathes, easily keeping his holds. “Where you think you’re going?”

Haru squirms and shouts again, and he hates how pathetic he sounds. How powerless he feels against someone he cannot even see. All Haru wants to do is order the man to unhand him and request to the castle guards that he never sees daylight again. However, Haru is only a prince in his mind. He has no proof or power – willingly left it all behind at the castle.

“I’ll uncover your mouth,” the man says, “but you best not scream. Yeah?”

Haru blubbers behind the man’s hand. He sees the arm holding him around the waist move out of the corner of his eye. The man’s hand reaches for something, and soon a cold, sharp object pokes Haru in the ribs. The touch drips poison into Haru’s body – completely sickening him with horror.

“No!” Haru groans against the hand, trying to wiggle away from the awfully sharp point that he can feel so well even through his tunic.

The man’s grip around his stomach tightens. “I wouldn’t move,” he rasps. “I wouldn’t do anything but nod that you understand.”

Haru moans in agony; the man isn’t just a stranger, but a _bandit_. A real bandit lurking from the woods. Haru looks up into the dark sky, blinking away burning wetness. Every part of him is dried out and brittle – every pint of liquid and blood and life in his body is concentrated right were the blade touches him.

Haru swallows hard, quickly nodding in agreement.

“Good boy,” the man says. He slowly unclamps his hand from Haru’s mouth, holding him across the shoulders instead.

Haru repeatedly gasps and takes in fresh air, and every time he tries to move he can feel the man’s grip on him tighten that much more.

“Now that you can speak, tell me what you’ve got and give it to me,” the man says.

Haru does not answer. He cannot do anything but breathe erratically – hate how he can feel the thief’s heart beating rapidly through his back. Hate how the dagger blade stings his skin.

“Do you not hear so good?” the man asks, getting extremely close to Haru’s ear, and his breath smells like death. “Am I gonna need to ask again?”

“I-I don’t. I-I don’t have any money,” Haru croaks, not recognizing his own voice.

The man simply tisks. “Don’t be stupid. A fine horse like yours had to be expensive. You didn’t buy anything good at the market, but you must have something.”

The poison in Haru’s body spreads, and his knees almost buckle from under him. He had no idea that he’ been legitimately tracked. He had no idea that he had been legitimately so fucking foolish.

“I-I spent everything I have,” Haru wheezes.

“For your sake, better hope that’s not true,” the man says. “I missed my chance with you once, but I won’t again.”

The man presses the blade a bit in between Haru’s ribs – not enough to puncture but enough to tug at the skin. Haru blubbers and wheezes, biting his lip hard to keep from screaming and tightly shutting his eyes.

“Maybe your chum Makoto is the one holding the money, huh?” the man asks, twisting the blade enough to hurt. “The other horse must belong to him.”

Haru slowly, finally opens his eyes. He gets just a bit of feeling back into his body.

“Oh? You surprised?” the man asked. “Was that not the name you were shouting? Made it so easy for me to find you? Well, that and you running about like a fucking headless chicken.”

The bandit readjusts his grip on Haru’s waist and slams Haru back against his torso, making Haru whimper in fright.

“So I’ll go find this Makoto, huh?” the man says. “Since apparently you are no use to me.”

Hearing Makoto’s name for the second time brings more life back into Haru’s body. He starts remembering who he is and what he can do.

“N-no. I-I have jewelry,” Haru quickly says.

“Curious. I would have never guessed,” the man says, sarcastically. “Is it prime?”

“Yes,” Haru answers, nodding. “It’s in my vest pocket.”

The bandit lets go of Haru’s shoulder and hastily reaches inside his clothes. Haru shudders as the foreign hand rummages through his pocket and takes out the bracelet.

The man moves the pieces around in his hand. “All right,” he grumbles, stuffing it into his pocket. “Where’s the rest?”

Haru’s heart drops. “W-what?”

“This shit isn’t all you’ve got,” the man says.

Haru blinks rapidly, shaking his head and not knowing what to do. “No – that is all I have.”

The bandit tisks again. “It _really_ is a fine horse you got. I’m sure worth its weight in jewelry – or perhaps in human bone if you don’t quit lying.”

The bandit presses the dagger into Haru again, and Haru whines, curling his toes. He has nothing more to give, but if he doesn’t then the blade won’t move from his ribs.

He swallows hard, panicking inwardly. “If-if, if you just let me-”

“- _no_ ,” the bandit grumbles. “I’ll finish you off and find your shit myself.”

The arm the bandit has around Haru’s shoulder moves up to his throat. Haru gags, fighting to move his arms and legs. He cannot breathe, and the bandit is going to end him. He cannot move, and the bandit is going to kill him before he ever had a chance to really live at all. Before Haru could make things right with Makoto.

 _Makoto_.

Haru can suddenly see Makoto so clearly in his mind. He can hear Makoto say that he would do everything he could to take care of him…

Haru stops fidgeting while his heartbeat quickens in speed. He doesn’t know what to do, yet somehow understands exactly what has to be done. His final day will not be spent in the woods alone with a hole in his heart. Statements such as, _“There is nothing more I need or want to say to you either”_ , will not be Haru’s last to the green-eyed knight.

“I. I have a few more pieces,” Haru says, his voice cracking. “In my boot.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” the bandit warns, spitting in Haru’s ear.

“I-I’m not – I s-swear,” Haru stammers. “They’re in a pouch. I’ll lift my boot, and you can get it yourself.”

“Fuck!” the bandit grits, stomping his foot. “All right, all right – but you have one chance for this.”

The man moves his arm from around Haru’s waist and holds the dagger directly to his back. He then lets go of Haru completely.

“One chance,” the bandit warns again, poking Haru’s spine with the blade.

Haru jumps and nods, taking a small step forward so he can bend down.

Haru does only have one chance. A quick, split decision to fight or flee. To hope for the best or to forge his own path, considering the precious gift Makoto gave to him – his guardian who always finds him. Protects him in some way.

As Haru reaches into his boot, he makes up his mind and speedily pulls on the hilt of the dagger he hid there, releasing it from the pouch. Haru does his best to whip around, and he growls as he puts all his focus onto the man’s upper arm that is holding the dagger, jabbing the blade into the bandit’s flesh.

The man howls, and Haru shouts as the blade penetrates and goes in. Blood soon spurts from the bandit’s arm, and Haru shudders at the sensation of easily cutting open flesh – as if he was slicing into butter. Haru quickly yanks out the blade, which makes him shout again, and in reflex he drops it to the ground.

The prince then turns and runs left, fleeing in the direction of the horses. He can hear the bandit pounding about behind him, but he can’t let that slow him down. Cannot allow the shock of stabbing another human being or the furiousness of his heart beat keep him from moving.

Haru can see Raven and Orca as he gets closer to his campsite, but before he can make it over to them another person springs from behind a tree. A man jumps out right in front of Haru’s path, killing all of the prince’s momentum.

Haru yelps and immediately shuffles back, only to be snatched by the cloak by the very person he is running from.

“You little bitch!” the bandit – the man Haru stabbed – grunts. He spins Haru around and punches him hard across the face.

Haru’s vision briefly leaves him as he falls to the ground, landing hard on his back. He instantly touches his throbbing cheek and shakes his head, feeling lightheaded. He has never been hit before, and the punch stuns him. Makes him woozy and not completely in his mind.

Haru winces and looks up, seeing the two bandits glaring at him. Seeing their snarled faces and dingy robes for the first time. The bandit who hit him – the one clutching his bloody arm and has a beard – staggers over to Haru.

“You’ll pay for that,” the man says, spitting and holding up his dagger with his good arm.

Haru yelps, frantically crawling backward as the man charges at him. The blade of his dagger shines in the starlight, as if it has already claimed Haru’s destiny…

There is a boisterous roar, and out of nowhere a boot is suddenly in the bandit’s side, shooting him away from Haru with immense force and down to the ground. The second bandit instantly pulls a sword from his belt, turning it on the person who has most likely damaged his thieving companion’s ribs – at Makoto who is visibly shaking and smoking with wrath.

“Makoto,” Haru quietly moans in pain, moans in pleasure at seeing his knight.

“You again!” the second bandit hollers at Makoto.

“No warnings this time!” Makoto rumbles, yanking his sword from the sheath and charging at the second bandit. The man counters while Makoto makes a striking thrust at him, beginning their feud.

Haru is in disarray as he hazily watches Makoto duel the second bandit. His brain feels so fuzzy; his face throbs, and the adrenaline running through him turns him paralyzed. Haru does not know who he is or what is even his life, but he has to do something now that Makoto is there. He has to help in some way – find his own dagger or get rope for binding or just _anything_.

Haru shakes his head to knock his senses back into himself and begins to move – starts sitting up. As he rises on his knees, he sees something flash by the corner of his eye.

There is a tiny fraction of time – a mere blink of realization – when Haru remembers again that there are in fact _two_ bandits. That the one he stabbed, the one Haru thought was incapacitated by Makoto’s kick, is now mobile once more.

“MAKOTO!” Haru bellows, but the warning is not fast enough.

Makoto’s focus flickers to Haru right as he swings his sword, looking to be disarming the second bandit. Their eyes – their very souls – connect for a mere moment, and everything around them seems to slow down and go quiet. Haru can only see Makoto’s eyes – can only feel the stillness of the atmosphere as signal of impending doom.

A breath barely goes by before the first bandit charges up behind Makoto, heaving back his dagger and stabbing Makoto in the lower stomach. Makoto loudly sucks in air, his face scrunching up as his body tenses and his sword arm drops. The bandit roughly yanks out the blade from Makoto’s gut – a dripping wet _squish_ ricocheting off the trees.

Makoto’s bulging green eyes close right before Haru, and the bandit Makoto had been dueling strikes him on the side of the head with the hilt of his sword. Makoto instantly crumbles to the ground – simply collapsing like a lifeless ragdoll. His sword hits the leaves with a loud _crunch_ , and no other sound or movement comes from the knight.

Haru opens his mouth to scream, blaring deep from within his body, but no sound actually comes out of him. His voice is frozen – trapped in unbelieving horror. He mindlessly starts crawling over to Makoto, but the bandit who stabbed him takes Haru by the hair.

“You ain’t going nowhere,” the second bandit says through gritted teeth. He looks to his partner in crime. “What should we do with him?” he asks, nudging to Makoto.

Haru gasps and tries going after Makoto again, but he is yanked back once more by his hair, and the pressure burns his scalp and makes him wince. Makes him not want to move again.

The first bandit clutches his bloody arm, rasping for breath and he kneads his side. “Let him bleed,” he says. “Fucker tore me up, and we need to get the hell out of here.”

“And this one?” the bandit holding on to Haru asks. “He have anything?”

“Other than that fucking hidden dagger – no. I don’t think this little bitch ever had anything special,” the first bandit says, glaring at Haru. “He’s just some peasant. Probably a man whore of the knight.”

“Fucking brilliant,” the second bandit says. “So the horse is a gift?”

“A gift we’re claiming,” the first bandit says. “Nicking both will look too conspicuous but we’re taking the brown one. It’s barely tied up.”

The second bandit lets Haru go, and the one he injured roughly kicks the prince in the abdomen. Haru jerks, groaning and curling into himself, holding his stomach that flames deep to his organs.

“You’re lucky I don’t do you in too!” the first bandit shouts.

“Next time, mate,” the second bandit says, pulling his partner away. “Let’s go.”

The two bandits begin walking away, one spitting at Makoto as they pass him and head toward the horses.

Haru clutches at the brittle, dead leaves, moaning in pain as he hears Raven neigh and struggle before his cries are eventually snuffed out, and soon he is galloping away on the trail toward the city. Haru makes another noise in agony – mourning for his steed and his beaten body.

Haru finds the strength to lift his head, and the first thing he sees is Makoto lying on the ground. All of a sudden, Haru’s pain does not feel so severe. In fact, he definitely feels well enough to move.

Haru stays on all fours and quickly scrambles over to the knight, regardless of how much it hurts. Makoto lies completely still on his back with his eyes closed, and thick blood seeps from the tear on his vest. Spreading out over the fabric like spilt mead.

Haru’s eyes grow massively at the sight before him, and he is wobbly all over – screaming and howling in his mind but not out loud. Deep, dark fright curls itself around Haru and swallows him whole – swallows him into a murky ocean that is too deep to embrace.

“M-Makoto?” Haru croaks.

He shakes the knight who merely lolls, lifelessly. Makoto’s head falls to the side, facing Haru, and the prince sees more blood – a trickle dripping from Makoto’s scalp.

Haru sharply takes a breath in, trembling as he parts Makoto’s hair, and he sees a small gash on the side of his head where the sword hilt hit him.

“No,” Haru whispers. “Makoto?” he asks again, shaking the knight once more.

Makoto does not open his eyes – doesn’t move or respond. He only lies still. Only bleeds more and more in the moonlight.

“Oh, no. Oh, no. No no no,” Haru breathes.

Haru hastily unfastens Makoto’s vest and lifts up his tunic, exposing the smooth, somewhat deep laceration on the left side of his lower stomach that spouts dark crimson. Draining Makoto of what he needs to live.

Haru stupidly presses his hand to the wound, but Makoto keeps bleeding. Bleeds right over Haru’s fingers and stains them red.

“No. No. Makoto, please – wake up,” Haru pleads. “Please please please please.” He taps Makoto’s face to force a response but only manages to get blood on the knight’s cheek, covering Makoto in even more of his life essence.

Haru yelps and immediately pulls his hand back. He rubs his face and runs his hands through his hair, going back to covering Makoto’s wound with both hands. Haru shivers and hums as he feels Makoto’s blood gushing underneath his palms – gazes at the knight who loses more and more color with every second that goes by.

“Don’t do this,” Haru whispers, his voice uneven. “Please, don’t do this.”

Haru whips his head around the woods, wanting to shout for help. But the last time he shouted in the woods it put him in danger – it got Makoto stabbed. Haru hangs his head and begins to rock, finding it harder and harder to breathe. If Rei were with him he would know exactly what to do. He would not let Makoto bleed so much. Rei would not let Makoto…die.

Haru huffs out a breath, putting a hand over his mouth. His entire existence implodes, and terror like he has never experienced before crashes over him – drowning him in a painful, forceful wave.

_Makoto – die. Makoto – die. Makoto – forever gone in death._

Haru slowly looks over Makoto’s body, the gruesome mantra repeating in his head. Makoto cannot _die_ – Makoto is life itself – and he could never leave because he has a family. He has a kingdom. People who need him more than anything else in the entire world and cannot be a real person without him.

But that is what could happen because of Haru. That is what _will_ happen if Haru does not do the right thing for once in his whole fucking life. Makoto needs him – Makoto will be taken away from him if Haru does not do what is necessary.

Haru’s mind abruptly snaps, and the last of his conscious thought and hysteria leaves him. Something deeper – something primal – soon takes over. Without even thinking about it Haru puts his ear to Makoto’s chest. He closes his eyes as he hears a faint heartbeat, and that is all he needs to know that there is still time. He can still make things right.

Haru takes off his cloak and pushes back his black robes. He meddles at the hem of one of his tunic sleeves, feeling for a loose knit in the stitching. He finds one and digs at the thread, pulling and tearing until he can fit a finger through. He holds tightly to the sleeve and growls, yanking down the fabric and ripping the sleeve off the tunic a little. After another couple of tugs the sleeve rips off completely, and he repeats the process on the other side.

Haru can barley hold on to the sleeves that his hands cover in blood, but he does his best to fold one over Makoto’s stomach wound, using the second sleeve to wrap around him completely. Haru ties the bit of sleeve left as good as he can, hoping his bandage will suffice for the time being.

As Haru pulls Makoto’s tunic back down and retries his vest, he intuitively reaches into the pocket and pulls out the cloth Makoto had stuffed inside there earlier. Haru then puts Makoto’s head on his lap, fastening the cloth around the knight’s head to cover the gash.

Haru focuses on his task, but he keeps peeking at Makoto’s face that just will _not_ articulate anything to him. They have never been together and not spoken. Makoto has never been so close without at least telling Haru something with his expression.

Haru lets out a shaky breath and briefly closes his eyes to get himself back on track. He then carefully lowers Makoto’s head and does his best to fit his cloak over Makoto’s chest to help keep his cooling body warm. It feels so wrong handling the knight in such a way, and Haru hates how Makoto’s arms unresponsively flounder as he pulls them through the sleeves.

Once Haru is finished, he stands up. He has done all that he can to address Makoto’s injuries, but the knight needs real medical attention. The only way for Haru to get that for him is for them to leave the woods. To seek out help.

Haru looks toward where Orca is still thankfully tied up then back at Makoto, repeating the glance a few times more. Haru will have to ride. Haru will have to use everything Makoto taught him to save them – including his steed.

Haru runs a hand through his hair again, trying his best to ignore how still and pale Makoto is lying in the leaves. He has no idea what to do or how to do it, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but the knight.

Haru takes Makoto by the boots, having no choice but to drag him to camp and closer to Orca. He grunts and stumbles over his feet as he carefully heaves Makoto through the leaves and twigs. The knight’s body is so long and heavy; his arms and head simply lolling, and every second Makoto is in motion risks the integrity of his wrappings. But Haru presses on, wincing as the longer he strains his muscles increases the pain in his ribs and head.

When Haru reaches camp, he drags Makoto a bit away from the trail as to hide him. He releases Makoto’s legs, wheezing and taking several deep breaths. He wipes his clammy forehead and clutches his throbbing stomach, praying for more strength.

Merely dragging the knight took so much energy and spirit out of Haru. He does not know if he can even lift Makoto off the ground – let alone onto a horse while the knight is bleeding and unconscious. Every second matters, but every bit of movement spills more blood.

Haru fidgets. He doesn’t want to leave Makoto – does not want to be away from him for a second until he opens his eyes – but he can’t go for help and stay with Makoto. Haru cannot be at two places at once no matter how hard he wishes that he could.

Haru has a choice: He can either stay with Makoto and inevitably watch him die, or they can once again part from each other and Haru can save him.

The prince nods to himself, making up his mind, albeit begrudgingly.

He hurriedly runs back to the sight, grabbing Makoto’s sword. Haru is taken aback when he lifts the weapon, surprised by how solid and heavy it is. It’s solid and heavy like Makoto and fell to the ground with the same profound _thump_. Haru unexpectedly blubbers in pain and fear, but he quickly erases the sudden spike of loss and gets back to his duty.

Haru returns to Makoto’s side, dropping to his knees beside him. He hides Makoto’s sword in his robes, wanting him to have the best defense possible in case he wakes up before Haru returns. The prince takes off his own robes as a final piece, placing it over Makoto’s body and up to his chin.

Haru sits back on his feet and gazes at the silent knight. All Haru wants is for Makoto to open his amazing green eyes. Tell him in that gentle voice that Haru hears everyday in his head that he will be all right – that he will forgive Haru for being the very worst person possible.

“I’m going to fix this,” Haru says to Makoto, nodding. “I’m going to take Orca, and I will get help, all right?”

Makoto does not respond – doesn’t move – and Haru never wants to get used to such a thing. He brings a hand up to Makoto’s face, wiping away a bit of blood on the side of his cold cheek.

“I’ll come back for you. I promise,” Haru whispers.

Haru cups Makoto’s face, hurting so much that he can hardly breathe, and he wobbles to a stand. Haru slowly backs away, taking in every second of Makoto, knowing that he has to and _will_ keep his promise.

Haru looks back once before getting to Orca, the dark steed instantly spooking. Haru holds up his hands and shushes the horse, gradually getting closer and reaching out to him. Orca resists as Haru takes his reigns, and he begins patting Orca in the way he always does – in a familiar way that is enough for the steed to settle a little.

“It’s all right,” Haru says soothingly to Orca, shushing and patting him still.

Orca settles more and more, recognizing Haru’s presence.

“I need your help,” Haru says sincerely to the steed, speaking to him in the way Makoto tried to teach him. The way Makoto himself speaks to Orca. “We have to get help for Makoto.”

Haru rubs Orca’s neck and kisses him on the side of the head, hoping that somehow Orca will understand – the universe will understand that Makoto should not suffer for Haru’s mistakes and that the prince would do anything to switch places with him. He says a quick prayer in his head and unties Orca, looking back at Makoto’s resting place one more time before gaining his nerve.

Haru takes a deep breath and hoists himself onto Orca, trying to steady the steed straight away. Being so high up makes Haru realize how dark it is outside. How the woods could be scattered with bandits who have watched him all day – who are just waiting for Haru to step away from Makoto.

Haru gasps in fright and starts moving off the horse. Panic begins scratching at his chest, and his sudden change in temperate causes Orca to neigh – as if somehow sensing what is happening. Haru shakes his head and stays on Orca, rolling away the alarm. The idea of riding in the dark through the woods without any real idea where he is going or how long he will be away from his bleeding knight.

Haru blinks away frustrated wetness and peers both left and right of the trail, debating if he should to go back to the city or head further north. ‘ _People are closer north_ , _’_ he tells himself. _‘Help is closer north’_.

Haru clicks his teeth and pulls on Orca’s reigns, ya’ing and turning the steed left toward the cottage town. He rides at an uncontrolled high-speed, bouncing wildly on Orca as he blazes down the trail. Haru cannot steer straight and can hardly see as he whizzes through the dark. In spite of this, Orca compensates beautifully. He gallops loyally and with a strength that somehow makes Haru feel just a little safer – feel a little closer to Makoto.

 _Makoto_.

He suffers because of Haru. The most gentle and kind person ever to breathe air is alone and bleeding in the woods because of Haru. The prince has never hurt someone so severely before. He has never been more guilty of being a horrible, reckless bastard. No matter what happens Haru will never forgive himself for what he has done. What he has done to the knight and to himself for no other reason than his own weakness.

~~~~

When Haru finally makes it out of the woods and gallops into the small village, he slows Orca down and glances around. All the outside torches on cottages have been extinguished, and he has no idea where the physician is located. Haru decides to merely ride up to the closest house, and he jumps off Orca and rushes to the first door in sight, banging on it repeatedly with total disregard as to how loud he is being.

It takes a few moments, but the door eventually opens, revealing a tall, stocky man with short grey and an axe in his hand. “Who are you – what is your business here?” the man demands.

Haru hunches over a little and holds his aching stomach, panting as he tries to catch his breath. He doesn’t even care about the axe; the intimidation does not come close to what he experienced in the woods.

“I…I need your help,” Haru pants.

“My word,” the man says, still holding up his weapon. “Listen, boy – whatever business you have has nothing to do with my family.”

“No, no – please. I am no threat. I have nothing,” Haru says, desperately, feeling all over himself to show the stranger.

“Iwao, what is it?” a crackling female voice says.

“Nothing, Mother,” the man, Iwao, says.

Light suddenly appears inside the house as an elderly woman and a boy with the same grey hair as the man join at the door. The boy holding a lantern cringes and gasps, and the woman’s eyes grow as she puts a hand to her cheek.

“Oh my,” the woman breathes. “Dear young man, you’re injured.”

Haru shakes his head in irritation as each precious second goes by. “I’m fine – I’m fine,” he assures. “What I need is-”

“-you’re covered in blood,” the boy says, actually pointing right at Haru.

“ _No_ , I….” Haru trails off, looking down at his quavering hands.

With the lantern light Haru can see how his hands are coated in blood, and he also notices the streaks of crimson on his bare arms and tunic for the first time. Haru instinctively touches his face, feeling the crust of blood flaking his skin. Makoto is all over him – his life splattered on Haru’s body as evidence of the prince’s sins.

Haru turns to the little family who are all gazing at him with shock and apprehension.

“It’s not mime,” Haru croaks, shaking his head and feeling something jagged and thick lodge in his throat. “That’s why I need your help. My…my friend and I were attacked in the woods by bandits. He is badly hurt.”

“Oh, Father,” the boy says, tugging on the older man’s arm.

Iwao still seems skeptical. He gives Haru a once-over. “I don’t recognize you, and anyone from around here knows better than to go into the woods at night.”

A pang hits Haru’s chest. Everyone apparently knows the rules of the woods – Makoto certainly did.

“My friend and I are not from here,” Haru says, feeling so painfully sorry. “We were in travels and got lost.”

The words taste bitter and make Haru feel sick. _He_ got lost – not Makoto. _He_ was stupid and loud and childish and completely to blame for the bandits ever knowing that they were there.

Haru swallows hard, becoming choked up. “My friend was… He was stabbed and needs urgent attention,” he adds, his eyes burning. “So, _please_ , help me. We-we. I-I can’t let him die...”

Haru has nothing more to offer. He looks at the family as sincerely and desperately as possible, hoping that they will understand and help him. If not, Haru will simply go on to the next cottage. Then the next – and every damn house in the entire village if necessary.

Iwao gives Haru another once-over, exhaling lightly and softening around the edges. He turns to his family, and the three all share some sort of understanding.

“Where is your friend?” Iwao asks, at last lowering his axe.

A morsel of relief drops into Haru’s stomach, and his heart skips a beat.

“Back in the woods – about half way,” Haru says. “I couldn’t bring him with me.”

“I don’t suspect any bandits will return to the site,” Iwao says. “They move on quickly, and they’ll be expecting people to show up now.”

“We still need to return to him as soon as possible,” Haru urges. “He isn’t conscious, and he’s bleeding. A lot.”

“Iwao, we have to get the physician,” the elderly woman says.

“We’ll walk down the road and wake him. Acquire his gurney,” Iwao says. He turns to his son. “Aiichirou, hurry and get dressed because you are going to ride with this man.”

Aiichirou and the elderly woman quickly disappear inside the house, following orders as if they honestly care.

“I will follow behind you soon after I fashion the transport to my horse,” Iwao then says to Haru. “I will have to borrow Blossom from across the way, but I will make haste.”

“Yes – please,” Haru says, bowing to the man.

“What is your name?” Iwao asks.

Haru is startled by the question – as he has not felt like a human being in ages it seems. Just like with the bandits, without proper attire or identification the family does not recognize him as their prince. Haru panics a little, for he is unsure of what to say, and he does not understand why he is so uncertain.

“Rei,” Haru answers, impulsively. “That is my name.”

Iwao dips his head. “I am Nitori Iwao. You’ve met my son, Aiichirou, and my mother, Jun. We will do everything we can to help you.”

A few more morsels of relief form inside of Haru, covering up his despair with just a little bit of hope. “Thank you so much,” the prince says.

Aiichirou comes out of the house, carrying a lantern and a small sword hooked to his belt. “I’m ready, Father,” he says.

“All right, get on the horse with Rei and do whatever he tells you to do, yes?” Iwao says.

“Let’s go,” Haru says, not wanting to waste any more time.

Haru climbs onto Orca and takes the lantern from Aiichirou. Aiichirou then hoists himself up a lot easier than Haru was expecting him to and takes the light back. Once he has a nice hold on the base of Haru’s saddle, Haru immediately pulls on Orca’s reigns and rides off back toward the woods.

Haru hardly has to steer or make adjustments as they journey to the campsite. Orca gallops as if he knows what is waiting for them, and Haru becomes more and more scared as they near their destination – for he does not know what he will find lying in the leaves.

When they make it to camp, Haru barely stops Orca before he is already jumping off and running to where he had hidden Makoto.

“This way!” Haru says, feeling thankful that Makoto is at least in the same place.

Haru falls to his knees, examining Makoto who does not look to have been disturbed – only more ashen and still. Haru pulls the robes and cloak off Makoto, placing his ear to Makoto’s chest. The knight’s body feels so cold, but Haru lightly sighs as he can still hear a heartbeat. He then gently shakes Makoto’s arm, but there is no response from the knight.

Haru bites his lip, telling himself that the lifelessness isn’t permanent – all he has to do is get Makoto to the physician and everything will be fine. Makoto _will_ wake up.

“I’m back,” Haru says to Makoto, deciding to check on the bloody makeshift wraps as a distraction from his fear. “I brought help, like I said I would.”

Haru hears leaves crunching behind him, and for a moment he panics before remembering that he brought someone with him. There are _not_ more bandits ready to attack them and hurt Makoto.

Aiichirou drops down next to Haru, holding up the lantern. He is silent and seems absolutely devastated as he looks over Makoto. “Oh, no,” he whispers.

“It looks bad, but he will be all right,” Haru says, trying to convince himself as well.

Aiichirou puts a hand over his mouth, his eyes widening, and he shakes his head. As if ‘no’ is even an option.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Haru warns, glaring at Aiichirou. “If you’re not going to help then get back – I will wait for your father.”

Aiichirou gasps, turning his attention back to Haru. “No – no. I-I’m sorry!” he says in haste, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean… W-what do you want me to do?”

“Help me move him to the trail,” Haru answers, intensely.

Haru takes the sword sheath clipped to Makoto’s belt and puts it on his, taking Makoto’s sword and attaching it to his belt. Haru then stands up, the extra weight feeling so heavy and profound on him – Makoto feeling so heavy and profound on him.

“I’ll grab his shoulders. You take his legs,” Haru says, trying to keep his voice steady.

Aiichirou follows the command, grabbing Makoto’s calves, and Haru feels nauseous and angry with someone else – some stranger – handling Makoto’s body.

“Be careful – don’t drop him,” Haru orders.

“I won’t,” Aiichirou says, tensing. “On three, all right? One. Two. Three.”

Haru and Aiichirou both grunt as they heave Makoto off the ground and quickly carry him out of the woods and to the trail. Haru keep his focus on Makoto – at his lifelessly body they bear – and he wants it all to be a nightmare. Something he can wake up from and forget over time. Talk about with Makoto as they patch up their relationship.

By the time Haru and Aiichirou have Makoto settled down on the trail, Aiichirou’s father emerges on his horse that drags a gurney behind it. Iwao gets the horse turned around and jumps off, rushing over to them.

“My word,” Iwao says upon seeing Makoto.

“He will be all right,” Haru says for the second time.

“Where are his injuries, exactly?” Iwao asks.

“On the side of his head, and his lower stomach,” Haru says.

Iwao nods, seeming very concerned. “It will be dangerous moving him in this condition, but I don’t see any other option with his injuries.”

“We have to get him back, Father,” Aiichirou urges. “We have to.”

“And we will,” Iwao says. “Rei – help me get him onto the gurney. Aiichirou, make sure to grab that lantern. We will need the light.”

“And the garments I left,” Haru adds. “We have to keep him warm.”

Haru and Iwao lift Makoto and watchfully place him onto the transport. Haru straps in Makoto’s legs and secures the bind across his chest. He pulls the cloak and robes back over Makoto’s body and touches his face that is frigid and so still – his eyes hidden and lost behind his lids.

“Be careful with him,” Haru says to Iwao.

“I will,” Iwao says. “I’ll ride moderately, and I want you to stay behind me and keep an eye on him.”

Iwao hops back on his steed. Haru and Aiichirou do the same, Aiichirou holding the lantern out so Haru can see Makoto better.

“The physician will be waiting for us back at the cottage,” Iwao says. “We’ll take your friend straight to Aiichirou’s bedroom.”

“All right – let’s ride,” Haru says, feeling somewhat energized again now that he is back with Makoto. Back with help.

Iwao takes off and Haru follows after him a few second later, trying to balance between riding and keeping his focus on Makoto who simply shifts and bobbles as he is dragged from the woods – a place he would not have been to in the first place if it weren’t for Haru.

Haru’s eyes sting as he rides and watches Makoto, but he tells himself that he will fix things. He just needs to get Makoto to the physician. Just needs Makoto to open his eyes again.

~~~~

When they get back to the cottage, the three men un-strap the knight and lift him up, carrying him into the house. Haru mindlessly moves with the others, shuffling Makoto into Aiichirou’s bedroom that is entirely lit up by candles. Water bowls and cloths are scattered about the two small side tables, and the bed is clean and sheeted. The elderly woman, Jun, is inside the room along with a tall, thin man dressed in black robes who holds a medical purse.

They lie Makoto on the bed, and the first thing Haru does it take Makoto’s sword off his belt. It does not belong with him – should only be carried by its rightful owner and feels far too uncomfortable on his body.

The tall, thin man bows. “I am Usami, the village physician.”

Haru slightly dips his head. “I’m Rei. This is…Ren,” he says, another name just coming straight into his mind.

Usami gives Haru a slow, bleak once-over. “And I was told you are unharmed?”

“I’m fine – tend to him,” Haru says, nodding vigorously and pointing at Makoto.

The physician quickly pulls the cloak and robes off of Makoto then takes large scissors from his kit. He crudely cuts down Makoto’s clothes, stripping the tunic and vest from his torso.

“Tell me everything,” Usami says.

Haru is surprisingly tongue-tied, feeling a random, fleeting moment of silly bashfulness at seeing Makoto’s burly bare chest and chiseled stomach in clear light. However, the moment soon dies. As in the light Haru can also clearly see Makoto’s makeshift wrappings, and how the one across his stomach is soaked in blood.

“We were in the woods,” Haru begins, slowly. “Bandits attacked us.”

Haru has to stop as the images – the sound of squishing flesh – come back to him in a tidal wave. It feels so much more powerful now that he tells the story with Makoto bloody and unconscious before him. His torso bare and on display without his consent.

Haru loses his breath, putting a hand to his chest, and Jun gently squeezes Haru’s shoulder.

“It’s all right, dear,” Jun says.

Haru nods, wetting his lips and clearing his throat. “My friend was stabbed in the stomach with a dagger and took a hard hit to the head with the hilt of a sword. He, um, he immediately fell and…he won’t open his eyes for me.”

Usami nods, pulling supplies out of his kit and sitting on the edge of the bed. “He probably suffered a brain trauma,” he says. “There is not much I can do for that, but I can tend to his abdominal wound.”

“Please - whatever you can,” Haru says, sitting down on the other side of the bed.

“Aiichirou, help me secure the horses,” Iwao says.

“I’ll prepare more water hot,” Jun says.

The family in turn leaves, but Haru does not pay attention. All his focus is on the physician as he begins removing Makoto’s wrappings, taking the one off his head first. He dips a cloth in a bowl of steaming water and dabs the wound. Haru cringes, but Makoto does not even flinch.

“The gash seems shallow. I will clean and wrap it second,” Usami says. “How long ago did he sustain these injuries?”

Haru rubs the side of his face that feels so flaky, shaking his head and shrugging. He has no concept of time – of season or century. All he knows is that it has been too long since Makoto has opened his eyes. Since Haru has seen him smile and heard him giggle.

“I don’t know,” Haru says. “I-I just want you to fix him.”

Usami gives Haru a look of sympathy. “Why don’t you help me with this part, all right?”

“What do I do?” Haru immediately asks, sitting as straight as possible.

“Remove his bandage,” Usami says. The physician takes hemp from his medical purse along with a steel needle. “I need to clean the wound and assess how deep the cut is. Most likely I will have to suture.”

Haru feels nauseous again and he shakes terribly, slowly untying and removing Makoto’s stomach wrapping. He bites his lip hard, his heart dropping as he sees the wound in proper light. The wide laceration splits Makoto’s skin open. Dark blood – some dried and some fresh – strains the area and all over his stomach and side. Leaks down and over the tops of his breeches.

The physician leans over and studies the wound. “Well, I am troubled by the blood loss,” Usami says, “but your companion was lucky as far as placement is concerned.”

“ _Lucky_?” Haru asks, feeling outraged by such an offense.

“Soldiers pass through here from time to time,” Usami says, calmly. “I have treated a lot of stab wounds, and I’ve discovered that the lower in the stomach it is, the better chances at survival.”

The physician dunks another cloth into the water bowl and reaches out to Makoto’s stomach, but Haru instantly shakes his head, holding out his arm.

“I’ll do it,” Haru says, practically snatching the cloth from the physician’s grasp.

Usami seems taken aback. “I beg your pardon, but I am a professional.”

“And as you said, this is _my_ companion,” Haru says, staying firm. “Besides, it will give you time to heat the needle.”

Usami slowly blinks. “You are abreast on medical procedures?”

Haru’s heart skips a beat. As prince, he has grown up with armed forces all around him. Along the way it was only natural that he would pick up a few things. However, the simple explanation will not be acceptable for the current situation.

“I do a lot of pamphlet reading,” Haru says, simply.

Haru dips the cloth into a bowl on his side of the bed then gently begins to dab Makoto’s stomach, washing his abs clean of crimson. He watches as the blood smears away on the cloth and rolls in watery streaks down Makoto’s skin. Haru touches Makoto tenderly and carefully, but the knight does not feel it. Shows nothing to Haru.

“Be careful as you clean the actual wound,” the physician says.

Haru doesn’t respond, just keeps his eyes on Makoto as he re-dips the cloth and cleans his wound directly. A painful shiver runs down Haru’s spine as he feels the gash underneath the thin cloth, and it hurts deep within his muscles. Pangs Haru so much more than his own aches and bruises.

Haru looks up to Makoto’s face. It is so pale, so vacant. For whatever reason he thinks about the last time he tended to the knight’s wounds – his cutup lip. Makoto had talked to him then. Had made sounds and flinched as Haru swiped over the cut. Makoto had opened his green eyes and asked if Haru had heard his voice too – to which Haru had stupidly said no. His stupidity, which started everything – lead to Makoto’s collapse to the ground.

“H-how is this?” Haru suddenly asks, almost losing himself.

“It will work,” Usami says. “The needle has been heated and threaded.”

Usami gets a small vial from his kit and pours clear liquid over the wound.

“For lubrication and hopefully to help with infection,” Usami says. “If anything will be fatal to him, it will be contamination.” He pauses, giving Haru a once-over. “I should warn you, the suturing process can be graphic.”

Haru sets his jaw. Nothing could ever possibly be more graphic than seeing Makoto take a dagger to the stomach – than watching his eyes close and his body crumble like he has nothing and no one to live for.

“I’m not leaving him,” Haru says.

The physician nods. “Very well.”

Usami dips his hands into a clean water bowl. He then pinches Makoto’s sliced skin together and pokes the hot, steel needle through the flesh, sewing Makoto’s skin together like drapery. Usami tugs on the hemp, and Makoto’s body slightly moves, but the knight does not react. Is a mere vessel of anatomy.

Haru makes a small noise, feeling the pain because Makoto can’t feel it. It is not as if Haru is squeamish – he simply cannot take seeing such a procedure being done to Makoto. It doesn’t matter that he is a knight as the very situation is a reality – it just shouldn’t be Makoto. It _can’t_ be him. Especially when all Makoto was doing was cleaning up Haru’s mistakes.

Haru stays quiet and still during the procedure, clutching his hands tightly together in his lap while his focus shifts between the physician’s sutures and Makoto’s face.

Haru prays for one twitch – one sign that Makoto has not left him for good as punishment.

~~~~

The physician ties and cuts off the remainder of the hemp thread, at last finishing Makoto’s sutures. Makoto’s skin is clean of blood but purple ooze stains his sutures, and the area around the laceration is blotchy and bruised. The only grace is that Makoto no longer bleeds. The cut was not too deep to seal.

“I will re-bandage this,” Usami says, “and it is imperative that the hemp stays clean and dry.”

“What about his head?” Haru asks.

“I will bandage it as well,” Usami says. “You will need to change the wrapping often and also keep it clean.”

The physician wraps a real medical bandage around Makoto’s stomach. He then cleans his head wound and carefully wraps a cloth around Makoto’s entire head.

Haru nods, liking how all of the pieces are finally coming together. “All right, easy enough. So, what now?”

“I am afraid there is nothing more to do,” Usami says as he begins to clean and put away his instruments.

Haru merely blinks. He looks at Makoto who is clean and bandaged – but not vibrant or even blinking. “But he’s not awake yet,” he says. “We can’t be finished.”

Usami sighs, gathering the bloody cloths together. “Your companion has suffered from blood loss and took a significant trauma to the head,” he says. “I have done everything that I can, but if and when he awakens is honestly up to him now.”

Haru is taken aback – blow apart from reality. The thought of Makoto not waking up isn’t something he considered or planned for in his mind. He just had to get Makoto help and everything would be fine. He needed to find a physician so Makoto would open his eyes again. _That_ was the plan – that is what has to happen.

“But…but he’s not awake yet,” Haru repeats. “Isn’t there something you can do or give him? How is this matter something that has to be up to _him_? _You_ are the physician.”

“Patience is a vast portion of the healing process,” Usami says, simply, as if the answer is good enough. “I am sorry, but that is the fact at hand.”

Haru shakes his head, not knowing what to do or think. Patience and apologizes are not good enough. He wants Makoto to awaken, and as prince Haru should get whatever the hell he wants.

“I heard you are not local?” Usami says.

Haru looks up at the physician, but he has no voice. He can barely do more than slightly jerk his head no.

Usami’s face grows in concern. “Well, your companion is in no condition to travel tonight, but perhaps when the wounds are in good condition you can venture to the city physicians. Perchance get a better diagnosis.”

Haru’s eyes sting, and he can hardly breathe as he looks at Makoto’s still, ashen face. There is no later or better – Haru needs Makoto back right now. Cannot possibly be made to go any longer seeing the knight in such a way.

There is a knock on the doorframe, interrupting Haru’s panic.

“How is the procedure?” Iwao asks from behind Haru.

Usami stands up from the bed. “Completed,” he says. “I have cured everything that I can. All we can do now is wait.”

Haru closes his eyes, wishing that he couldn’t hear like Makoto. Wishing that he could be wherever Makoto is at the moment – even if it means that they are both trapped in dark unconsciousness.

“We appreciate you coming over like this,” Iwao says.

“It is not a problem. I simply wish I could do more,” Usami says. “I will return sometime tomorrow to see how he is doing.”

Haru gets a little feeling in his legs, and he does his best to rise to a stand.

“Thank you for everything,” Haru says, dipping his head.

The physician places a hand on Haru’s shoulder. “He is a lucky man, and I have every faith that he will wake soon. Just keep his injuries clean. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Haru croaks.

“I will walk you out,” Iwao says.

Haru turns around and watches the physician leave with Iwao, only to finally notice that Jun also at the door holding a tray.

“I brought supplies so you can clean yourself up,” Jun says, coming into the room. “And a spot of supper.”

“I am not hungry,” Haru says, looking back at Makoto. “I just want to be here with him.”

“I’ll leave it in case you change your mind,” Jun says. “Please know that you and your friend are welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like. We do not have a lot but whatever you need is open to you, and Aiichirou’s room is yours for this duration.”

Haru should feel relieved, as the thought of permanent shelter had not begun to cross his mind, but it is difficult to feel better when Makoto isn’t awake and in his mind to show his gratitude as well.

“I appreciate your kindness,” Haru says, but he hears the signature phrase in Makoto’s voice.

Jun smiles and sets down the tray. She begins cleaning up the mess – picking up crimson bandages and cloths that are covered in Makoto’s blood. Watching her clean makes Haru dizzy, but he needs a break from gazing at Makoto’s body. Even for a moment.

“I too believe your friend will recover,” Jun says. “Usami is a good physician, and I think you did everything you could to the best of your ability.”

Haru looks away from the woman. He knows she is trying to make him feel better, but he is more than aware of how wrong she is. If Haru had done his best, Makoto would have never gotten hurt. Makoto would have never had to ask for space in the first place.

Jun squeezes Haru’s shoulder again. “Try and get some rest, dear. In the morning I will make you breakfast.”

“All right, thank you,” Haru says, nodding mindlessly.

Jun takes Haru’s food off the tray and places the used washing bowls and bloody cloths on it instead, leaving Haru in the room.

Haru lets out a quivering breath, as he is finally alone and safe with Makoto. He gazes over Makoto’s ashen body and his chest that barely rises and falls. It becomes too painful – too quiet now that everyone is gone – and Haru has to do something.

He gets up from the bed and blows out a few of the candles. He then pulls off Makoto’s boots and covers him with the blanket up to his chest.

It is not enough to make him feel useful, so Haru then turns to the provisions Jun brought him. While he cannot fathom eating, cleaning himself up might be a good idea – or at least some sort of good distraction from his panic.

Haru takes a dry cloth and dips it into the water, running it over his stained hands. He shudders as the warm water washes away Makoto’s blood from his skin, clearing it of all traces of what happened in the woods.

Haru thinks about washing his arms, but for some reason he can’t. He takes a glance at Makoto and decides to keep his arms the way they are – decides not to change out of his blood-riddled tunic. Haru simply cannot wash all of Makoto’s life essence away – not while his eyes are still closed. Haru has to keep Makoto extremely close somehow. Has to keep the evidence on him.

He elects to wash his face, however, and as Haru scrubs his cheek he winces. Wincing again as he wrings pink water out from the bloody cloth. He picks up the small mirror Jun also brought him to check out his face.

Haru gasps as he sees himself, not recognizing the person that gawks back at him. His eyes are red, and his face is dirty and stained with watery blood. Somehow his hair is crusted with blood too, making the ends stick up.

Haru is so taken by how covered he is – how covered he’s been, but it does not mask the bruise that has settled on his cheek, or the slight swell of his nose from when the bandit punched him.

Haru sets down the mirror. He places a hand to his chest and closes his eyes – the reality of what happened hitting him hard all at once…

Haru was held up – dragged into the woods. He had a dagger to his back – digging into his ribs. He had to _stab_ someone to protect himself, and Haru can once again feel the sensation – feel how easily his dagger had punctured the bandit’s flesh.

Haru opens his eyes as he hyperventilates, first seeing Makoto’s ashen face. Haru was help up, but Makoto ended up getting stabbed. Haru was the loud one; the one who committed violence, yet Makoto paid the price. Makoto is the one injured with no guarantee of ever waking.

Haru rubs his temples, taking several deep breaths and trying to calm down, but he can’t. He cannot calm down and breathe because everything is his fault, and it always has been – not Makoto’s.

The pit in Haru’s heart fills with rage – the rage he has felt for days – but he knows it is not for Makoto. Never was for Makoto, really. The only person Haru honestly blames – who he could ever possibly hate – is himself.

If Makoto dies or never wakes up it will be Haru’s burden. Because Haru was stupid and childish and did not want to follow orders. He just had to defy Makoto. Had to prove that he didn’t need Makoto or care about their situation. Even though the only reason why Haru fled the castle to begin with was because his body ached too much – ached for Makoto in a way Haru could not handle.

Haru hums in pain as pressure presses against him from every side. He told Makoto to stop in the armory, but he didn’t mean it. He told Makoto to go in the garden, but he didn’t want to. He said to Makoto in the woods that he didn’t want to talk to him anymore, but all Haru wants to do every day is hear him laugh. Hear Makoto say his name in the way that is so thick with tenderness and sincerity.

Haru’s bottom lip trembles as he gazes at the knight. He can’t imagine his life without Makoto’s voice. Without Makoto beside him, safe and happy. Close and completely personal.

But that is what could happen. Haru will have to live with himself somehow, knowing that he pushed the only person worth getting close to away. Away from him forever.

The rage boils over in Haru’s heart and is replaced with the grave sense of loss – a loss he now understands and feels so clearly. Haru is terrified, and there is so much darkness around him, closing in on him without Makoto there to pull him out.

Haru loses the feeling in his muscles, and he lies down on his side next to Makoto. “Don’t go,” he whispers. “I know you’re angry, but please don’t leave me. I need you, Makoto. I…”

Haru chokes on air, and his eyes throb as something bursts in his throat. Tears flood the prince’s eyes, and he cannot fight the overpowering feeling. The sensation and truth that rattles and twists his insides.

Haru begins to sob – really cry for the first time ever because he has never felt strongly enough about anything before to let it get past his barriers. He has never had anything in his life worth such a level of emotion.

Haru weeps in a way that makes his entire body tense and ache. Every gasp for breath hurts, and his head pangs that much more for every caged, repressed drop of moisture that falls from his eyes.

A word blooms in Haru’s chest, filling the hole in his heart. It is the word that planted its seed long before now – long before Haru realized it was there. Perhaps even the first time Haru looked into Makoto’s encompassing green eyes and simply knew that he was special. Something insanely good and essential to Haru’s existence. Like a missing piece that was made for him – waiting for him – to make Haru unbroken.

There is a knock on the doorframe, and Haru instantly sits up, frantically scrubbing his eyes.

“My apologies,” Aiichirou says, stepping into the room. “I brought an extra blanket. It gets drafty in here. I also have clean tunics in my wardrobe if you’d like to change.”

“I’m all right,” Haru says hoarsely, sniffling hard.

Aiichirou gives Haru a once-over. “You should find rest. Even a little sleep will help.”

“Possibly,” Haru mumbles, already knowing that will not happen. He plans to guard Makoto with his life – pay attention to every breath to make sure that the knight does not falter.

Aiichirou sits on the bed by Makoto’s feet, gazing at him and seeming so genuinely remorseful. “If you need anything, I’ll be right outside,” he says. “Please, do not hesitate.”

“I won’t,” Haru says. “Thank you for all of your help.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Aiichirou says.

Haru blinks, rudely scrubbing under his nose. “W-what do you mean?”

Aiichirou sighs. He looks toward the door then back at Haru. “I did not want to say anything in case I was wrong, but I am not wrong,” he says. “The reaction that you saw of me in the woods was only because I have meet this man before.”

Haru’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“I know he is a knight,” Aiichirou says, quietly. He actually smiles a little. “I meet your friend just today in the market. He protected me from a couple of bandits, perhaps the same ones you encountered tonight.”

Haru’s heart skips a beat, and he feels sick again. “He – he protected you?”

“Yes,” Aiichirou say, grimily. “They were trying to steal from me and he ran them off. He was very nice to me, though. A very kind knight.”

Haru swallows hard, his vision clouding with tears again. “He is the best knight in the kingdom,” he says.

Aiichirou’s eyebrows raise, and Haru cannot keep track of what he is saying.

“However,” Aiichirou says, “when I met him he was in full armor. Completely protected.”

Haru has to look away, but his attention only goes so far as to the red water in the washing bowl. He can hear Makoto telling him that he did not get a chance to prepare – that all he had on his mind was getting to Haru and making sure he was safe and unharmed.

“It’s not his fault,” Haru says, gently.

Aiichirou seems confused, but he merely shrugs. “Either way, your friend has already helped me today. I suppose it is my turn.”

“He will learn of your efforts when he wakes up,” Haru says. He pulls the blanket a bit higher on Makoto’s body – moves hair out of the knight’s face even though it does not matter.

Aiichirou holds his hands together, looking down for a moment. “You must really care for this knight.”

Haru doesn’t respond, only bites his lip.

“Well, I will leave you be,” Aiichirou says, getting up from the bed. “Have a good rest, and I really am sorry about your friend.”

Aiichirou leaves the room without another word, and Haru lets out a wobbly breath, turning his attention once more to Makoto’s face. Haru does really care for the knight, but it is so much more than that. So much more than Haru ever expected or planned for his life, but it happened regardless. The seed was planted and the word blooms.

“I love him,” Haru whispers.

It is barely a breath – but it’s real. It is the first real thing Haru has ever had.

Another tear slips down Haru’s cheek. He takes Makoto’s hand and holds it between his own, hoping that the knight will feel his touch and return to him. Praying that his confession will be enough for fate to give him another chance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh MH....  
> *closes laptop and sinks into floorboards*

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea of royal!Haru and humble!Makoto. Those two dorks are just too perfect in any universe! lol
> 
> I'm @MakoMacarena


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